Deliverance, Part 1 of the Deliverance Trilogy
by shepsgirl72
Summary: When Sheppard takes on the plight of the downtrodden men of Medulsa, he gets more trouble than he bargained for. Shep whump prevails! Set late Season 1 so spoilers for any episodes up to and including 'Sanctuary'. Complete - updates every couple of days.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own no part of Stargate Atlantis, but if John Sheppard ever comes up for sale he's mine so get in line! I'm just borrowing the characters to have some fun with!**

Sheppard stretched out on his stomach on the grassy outcrop, viewing the village below through his field binoculars. He'd parked the jumper some two clicks away to avoid unwanted attention, a fact McKay had bent his ear about all the way, but that he now felt justified in doing. These people were primitive even in comparison to most of the other technologically challenged societies they'd encountered in the Pegasus Galaxy. Their dwellings were basic, round, stone built and thatched, and a fire burned at the centre of the village where large quantities of food sat waiting to be cooked. Though the village was bustling with life, he could only see women and children there, another thing that made him glad they'd set the jumper down at a distance.

'Well, they look friendly enough...' he mused, giving the place one last scan.

'You mean they look _female_ enough,' McKay countered, studying them for himself. 'You have such a one track mind.'

Throwing the scientist a withering look, the major tucked his binoculars back into his Tac-Vest. "Only women, huh? I hadn't noticed; I was too busy assessing their stage of development and any potential threat they might pose. Guess we know what you were checking out, Rodney," he growled.

McKay fish mouthed, but couldn't come up with a suitable retort. Instead, he threw Sheppard one of his now infamous scowls, as they all moved away from the edge of the drop.

'Look, you're the one who said we should come here,' the major reminded him. 'You said there were structures and power signatures that suggested a link to the Ancients – so far all we've seen are some cattle sheds and this village. Not very 'Ancient', are they?'

Rodney held up a finger. 'Actually, what I said was I'd detected power fluctuations that suggested Ancient tech, but the settlements visible were far more primitive. And I distinctly remember saying the energy bursts were sporadic at best. It might not be anything we can use.'

Sheppard planted his hands on his hips and frowned at the scientist, who suddenly found the readings on his tablet utterly fascinating. 'You said we "had to" come out here and check this planet out,' the major growled. 'Are you telling me we've wasted our time?'

'No...I'm just saying you shouldn't get too excited because it might amount to...well...nothing,' Rodney replied, looking sheepish.

Folding his arms and resting them on the butt of his P-90, Sheppard exchanged a bemused glance with Ford and Teyla. 'I'll try to rein in my enthusiasm. Thanks for the warning.'

'You're welcome,' McKay said, a split second before spotting Sheppard's sardonic smirk. Annoyed to be out-snarked, he shook his head and studied his tablet again.

'Okay. Now we're all clear about what we may or may not find, I suggest we take this initial meeting carefully,' Sheppard announced, addressing the whole team. 'Teyla and I will go down to the village and open up communications. McKay, you and Ford should try to track down those energy spikes and check out whatever's causing them. We'll rendezvous at the jumper in one hour to radio back to Atlantis with our findings.'

'Oh, sure. You talk to the hot women while I do all the work,' McKay muttered. 'That never gets old. How come I never get to talk to women?'

'Because I don't want you there cramping my style, Rodney,' Sheppard confessed.

Again, it took McKay a few seconds longer than he would ever admit to pick up on the major's tone. 'Oh, sure...go ahead and laugh, but how do you know I'm not exactly the kind of man those women are looking for?'

'Well, even if you are, you're the genius around here as you're so fond of reminding us,' Sheppard pointed out. 'And that makes you the most qualified person to track down those random signals, right?'

'Well...er...yes, but,' he floundered.

Sheppard's hazel-green eyes pinned him, flashing with mild annoyance. 'So, you can see my point?'

Looking pained, McKay nodded. 'I suppose...when you put it like that.'

'Wouldn't it be better for us all to stick together, Sir?' Ford grunted, evidently none too pleased with the arrangements.

'Well, I think two visitors are enough for this village. We don't want those nice womenfolk down there feeling intimidated on our first encounter with them. Right, Teyla?' Sheppard explained, looking to his female colleague for support.

Teyla nodded emphatically. 'I think it would be wise for as few of us as possible to enter the village until these people know they can trust us. That way, they will feel less vulnerable.'

'See,' Sheppard smirked. Then, pulling Ford aside, he added, 'Besides, this way we can save time...and someone has to look after McKay. He's not so good with the guns and the shooting stuff.' To demonstrate, he drew his M9, screwed his eyes shut, and proceeded to do a convincing impression of McKay's firing technique.

Ford smirked, nodding knowingly. 'Understood, Sir.'

'I _am _still here, you know,' Rodney snapped, scowling as he unpacked his scanner from his Tac-Vest pocket.

'And you're not too good at exchanging pleasantries, either,' Sheppard added, strolling over to him. 'That's why you're a tech geek and not a diplomat.'

'The two things aren't mutually exclusive,' McKay grumbled. 'I can do the...the...the talking thing when necessary.'

'Sure you can,' Sheppard smirked again. 'But today, I've decided to let Teyla take the lead with the "talking thing". Let's head out.'

Sheppard and Teyla picked their way down to the village from the higher ground, walking quietly into the settlement, much to the obvious amazement of the people living there. As he had suspected from his observations, only women wandered out to face them, some clutching children close to them as if they expected the strangers to try to steal them away. It seemed they were unused to visitors.

'I guess the men must be out huntin' and fishin',' Sheppard whispered to his companion, giving the ladies now gathering around them one of his winning smiles.

Teyla raised an eyebrow. 'I am not so sure, Major. Do you not think it strange that most of these children also appear to be female?'

He scanned the crowd again. Teyla was right; other than a few grubby, unattended babies in a wooden pen who looked as though they might be male, the other children were definitely all females.

He didn't have a chance to voice his opinion, as one woman, one who looked older than most of the others, strode out to meet them. Her long grey locks, partially pinned back, trailed behind her as she swept toward them across the dusty ground. She exuded an air of authority, but not hospitality, and he sensed they were about to make the formal introductions. She eyed Sheppard from head to foot as she came to a halt, her forehead furrowing with consternation. Then, she addressed Teyla.

'Who are you? What do you want here with your guns?'

Teyla looked to Sheppard for instruction. None of the women carried weapons themselves, in fact they bore nothing but the crudely woven clothes they were wearing that he could see, so he gave a surreptitious nod to let his Athosian companion know he was happy for her to do their talking for them, before unclipping his guns and laying them down in the dirt in front of him. Teyla followed his example before speaking.

'Do not be afraid. I am Teyla Emmagen, and this is Major John Sheppard. We come in friendship, and in the hope of opening trade links between our peoples.'

'We have no need for new trading partners. We have everything we could ever want,' the woman snapped, looking the major over again. He noticed she hadn't introduced herself, something he took as a sign things were not going well. Normally, when Teyla used that soothing voice and gave out their names, people felt safe enough to return the gesture. Not so this time, it seemed.

Teyla carried on regardless of the cool reception. 'Major Sheppard's people are new to this galaxy, and have travelled from very far away. They are in need of good friends, and I am certain we could offer you something of value that you cannot get from other traders. We have power sources and technologies, and –'

The woman bent down and picked up Sheppard's P-90, examining it. Though alarmed, Sheppard forced down his instinct to snatch it back, allowing her time to study it. 'Major, you say? Is that a name or a title?' she asked Teyla.

Teyla shared a look with Sheppard, but he allowed her to explain. 'It is his rank. He is our military commander. Please...be careful with that. It is very dangerous. We do not wish you to harm yourself.'

Others in the group gathered around, looking at the weapon this older woman held and picking up the other items Teyla and the major had surrendered to them.

When Sheppard returned his attention to the spokeswoman, he found the woman's eyes on him again. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Something was wrong here. He didn't know what, but his sense of self-preservation said they should leave – now.

'Military commander?' the woman said, squinting at him. 'Then, he is a warrior?'

It occurred to him now that they weren't addressing him directly, but discussing him with Teyla. It seemed her instincts were right that he should be more concerned there were no males in the village other than infants – they were treating him as if he wasn't there. No, it was worse than that, they were treating him as if he were some kind of second rate human. Again, the feeling they needed to leave tugged at him, but he convinced himself to have a little more patience. It was possibly just a harmless cultural difference.

'Yes...a great warrior,' Teyla answered enthusiastically, clearly believing she had found a way to relate with these people at last. 'He has fought many enemies, as have I. If you require training to help you and your men protect your village –'

'We have no need for such things,' the woman interrupted. 'We're simple people. All we need is good food, sturdy homes, and healthy offspring to keep our society thriving.'

Sheppard wasn't sure he liked the way she eyed him again when she talked about _healthy offspring. _He wished he hadn't handed over his weapons quite so readily now. That had been a dumb move; he'd allowed his sense of chivalry to overrule his common sense, something he inwardly cursed himself for. The woman held his gun as if she was familiar with weaponry, and he now got the feeling these women were more than capable of handling themselves in a fight. He decided it was time to wrap up this conversation and go find their friends.

'Well, we have technologies that might help you to grow better crops, and weapons you can use for hunting,' he offered. 'But if you really feel you have everything you need, we'll just take back our things and leave you good people in peace.'

A gasp issued forth from the crowd, and he automatically knew he'd made a terrible mistake. He glanced at Teyla, who looked as confused by their reaction as he was. Some swift back peddling seemed to be in order.

'I'm sorry if I caused any offence,' he quickly added. 'That wasn't my intention. Look, you people obviously aren't interested in anything we have to offer, so Teyla and I are going to head out and leave you to your business.'

A woman to the right of the spokeswoman stepped toward him, raising the barrel of his sidearm and prodding it into his chest. 'Stop speaking to her.'

He raised his hands, signalling compliance. Around them, the women began to press in, eyeing him and whispering to each other, some even touching him. He got the distinct feeling they were appraising him as if he was the main item at a cattle market. 'Teyla, now would be a good time for you to do more of that talking thing you do!' he hissed, as they crowded too close for comfort.

'As a show of good faith, you can keep the weapons. Just let Major Sheppard and I go on our way,' she suggested hopefully. Sheppard was painfully aware of the alarm edging her tone. When Teyla panicked, it was definitely a bad sign.

The tension in the group mounted; nothing Teyla said made a difference. A space opened up around him, Teyla somehow absorbed into the crowd, and a few of the women began to circle Sheppard – big women, tall and broad types, who looked like they pulled carts for a hobby, each of them carrying what looked like crudely crafted clubs. They swung them casually at their sides like it was the most natural thing in the world, their eyes fixed on him the whole time. He sensed the approaching attack, but had no way of knowing where it would come from first. Reaching for his knife, he felt nothing but the space on his belt where it had once been clipped, leaving him completely defenceless. Surprisingly, it was the woman in front of him who initially launched herself, a blatant assault in his full view. He ducked then caught her upraised arm, applying pressure to her wrist to make her release her club, only realising his mistake when he heard Teyla call out to him and felt the sharp crack on the nape of his neck. A flash of bright white light in his vision floored him._ She was the decoy, you idiot! _he thought, clutching the base of his skull as he curled up in the dust.

He fought to stay conscious despite his brain's best efforts to shut down. He could just make out a group of women restraining Teyla, and he heard the village elder speak to her. 'You say you come to trade, Teyla Emmagan. Here are our terms. You hand the man over to us for punishment, and we let you live. Is that agreeable?'

'No, it is not,' Teyla growled, her teeth gritted as she strained against her captors. 'Major Sheppard does not understand your ways and meant no harm. You should accept our apologies and release him. He has the right to make one mistake, surely?'

The woman laughed, the others crowded around them joining in. The noise echoed in Sheppard's aching head, making it pulse with nauseating pain. He scrunched his eyes shut and waited for the wave to pass.

'He's a man,' he heard another voice shout. 'He has no rights here.' A rumbled of agreement supported the statement.

Then, the familiar voice of the older woman chimed in once again. 'He has spoken directly to a village elder. No man is allowed to do that. For this, he will be punished.'

'He did not know your rules,' Teyla protested again. 'You cannot punish him for just one unintentional error.'

'We can, and then we will teach him our customs so he will know what is expected,' the woman responded, matter-of-fact.

'You talk as if you plan to keep him here. I will not leave without him,' Teyla insisted, dragging those holding her toward him a few paces. Despite her tiny frame, Teyla was unexpectedly strong. Sheppard had learned that himself the hard way. She'd kicked his butt more times than he cared to remember when they'd sparred.

This time, the major knew even Teyla's strength and determination weren't enough to help him. He managed to push himself into a sitting position, the village spinning around him. 'Teyla,' he croaked, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar amidst the ringing in his head. 'Get out of here.'

She shook her head, refusing to comply. 'I will not leave you, John!' she insisted, her words ragged with emotion.

Teyla was the most amazingly loyal person Sheppard had ever met, but right now that loyalty wasn't helping either of them one scrap. 'Teyla, if you stay, you're gonna get yourself killed, and that's not gonna solve anything. Head back and let Elizabeth know what's happened. She'll know what to do.'

'But, John!'

'That's an order!' he shouted, regretting it as the pain increased with the raising of his voice. Not that he had to worry about it for long. His audacity ensured the delivery of another thump to his temple, and that one knocked him out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I have managed to edit most of the next chapter already, so if you're lucky I might be able to update this quicker than I expected.** **Read. Enjoy. Review!**

Teyla ran from the village, watching over her shoulder as the women crowded in around Sheppard's prostrate form. How could women behave this way? A woman's instinct was to nurture and protect, not attack and denigrate. Even she, as a warrior, had never struck an innocent. These women clearly felt no compunction about harming those they felt had flouted their laws. She only hoped Sheppard had the good sense not to cause any more trouble until she could get back with help.

Once far enough away from them not to be overheard, she contacted Ford and McKay. 'Rodney, Aidan,' she called frantically, trying to keep her shot emotions in check.

'Teyla?' Rodney's voice came back though her radio. 'What's wrong?'

Surprised by his level of insight, she called back to him, 'We must fall back to the jumper. Immediately.'

'What, why? Where's Sheppard?' he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. Why was it that Rodney could never just do as she asked him? 'Just fall back to the jumper, Rodney. I will explain everything when I meet you there.'

'Understood,' Ford grunted in response, and the radio fell silent.

She raced on, ignoring the low branches and undergrowth that pulled at her hair and scraped her skin. They stung, but not nearly as much as the sense that she had failed the major.

When she reached the jumper, Ford and Rodney were already waiting for her.

'This better be good,' McKay grouched. 'I'd almost locked onto the power signature, and that thing is so random it could take me hours to find it again!'

Ford just stared out of the back of the jumper, into the woods. 'Where's the major?'

'He is still at the village,' Teyla explained, trying to catch her breath as she pressed at the pain in her side the run had caused, attempting to alleviate it.

'Why?' the lieutenant grunted, picking up on the urgent tone of her normally dulcet voice.

'They have taken him prisoner,' she said, holding his fierce gaze.

McKay's face fell in shock. 'What? Why didn't you say that before?'

'We have to get back there and free him,' Ford insisted, barging his way toward the rear ramp.

'It will do no good,' Teyla warned him, restraining him with a firm hand on his arm. 'They are many, and I believe they are more than capable of defending themselves. They handled our guns as if they were familiar with such projectile weapons. If we return in anger, all we will do is put the major's life in danger, and probably our own.'

'And if we leave him, what then?' Ford asked, his anger barely under control.

'Major Sheppard ordered me to return to Atlantis and inform Dr Weir of his situation, and that is what I intend to do. You two are coming with me,' Teyla insisted, planting herself in his path.

Finally understanding this was Sheppard's orders, Ford gave way to her.

'What? We can't just leave him here; he could be dead by the time we get back!' McKay protested, trying to urge the lieutenant on.

'They seemed to think he had done something wrong and should be punished until he understood their ways. I do not believe they intend to kill him,' Teyla assured him.

'What'd he do?' Rodney asked. 'He wasn't trying to hit on them was he?'

Teyla shook her head. 'I do not know what caused them such offence. He simply spoke to them...but they did say that as a man he had no rights there.'

'What do you mean, _no rights_?' Ford asked.

'I do not know, but there were definitely no men in that village, not even older men who could not hunt. The only males there were babies still in need of nursing.'

'That's odd,' Rodney mused, looking like he was trying to work it out.

'Yes it is, but I do not believe this is a matter we can deal with alone. You must fly the ship back to the Stargate and we will report back to Dr Weir, just as the major ordered.'

'Look, you want a pilot, Sheppard's your man. I can still barely get this thing to go in a straight line.'

'You do it well enough to get us back to the Stargate, but we must go now, Rodney. We're wasting precious time.'

'Perhaps I should stay and keep an eye on things,' Ford suggested, but once again, Teyla used all her strength to delay him.

'Aidan, I do not think it is safe for any man to set foot near that village. It was almost as if they were looking for an excuse to keep the major there, and if they wanted to detain him, then they would surely do the same to you. I believe that is why Major Sheppard feels Dr Weir is the best person to handle this situation, as do I. Now, let us return to Atlantis and allow Dr Weir to settle this matter.'

McKay swallowed hard, nodding as he hurriedly took up the pilot seat. Though the take off was rocky, he steered them safely up over the trees and on toward the Stargate.

oooOOOooo

_Why can I smell dirt? _Sheppard wondered as he gradually came to his senses. Then, he realised he could not only smell it, but taste it. That, along with an iron tang he recognised as blood. Spitting out the bitter mixture, he sat up and tried to fathom out where he was. The ground felt damp beneath his backside, and the leg of his trousers cloyed to his skin where he'd been lying on it, suggesting he'd laid on the soggy floor for some time.

The memory of how he'd ended up unconscious came back to him slowly. _Oh, yeah. The bench pressers,_ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as a deep throbbing pain set in. As he stretched it to relieve the discomfort, he gradually became aware that the only light source available was coming from above him. He was locked up underground.

'You are a stranger to this village,' a voice said from somewhere behind him.

Sheppard started, having thought he was alone in there. On turning, he found a middle-aged man lurking in a shadowy corner.

'Oh, hey. I didn't see you there,' he apologised.

'No. No one has seen me for days now.'

Sheppard raised his eyebrows a little, trying not to dwell on how ominous that sounded.

'What are you being punished for?' the man asked, dispensing with the small talk.

Sheppard took in the man's dishevelled appearance; his long, ragged beard and hair, and his threadbare clothes, and wondered how hard his life had been for him to look that way. 'Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. I was talking to what I assume was the village elder –'

'You spoke to Allanae?' The man looked horrified. 'You do not speak to her. No man is permitted to speak to her.'

'Excuse me?' Sheppard squinted, planting his hands on his hips. 'No _man_?'

'That's punishable by five lashes.'

The major's stomach lurched. 'Oh, I don't think so. You see, my people are going to be back here soon to sort this whole misunderstanding out. So...what did you do?'

'I struck her,' the man replied flatly.

Although a little shocked by the thought of this man hitting a woman, Sheppard supposed he could understand it considering the way she behaved.

'She spat on me, and I could not stand to see her anymore,' the man explained.

'And what'll you get for that,' Sheppard asked, figuring that had to be worth at least ten lashes.

'Death.'

He said it so matter-of-fact that Sheppard presumed he'd misheard. But there weren't many other words that sounded quite like that one. 'I'm sorry, did you say 'death'?' he asked, still hoping to be proved wrong.

The older man nodded. 'They are due to carry out my sentence soon, when the sun has risen to its height.'

'And you're okay with that?' Sheppard pressed. He detected no hint of anxiety in the man's tone, something he couldn't comprehend. If they'd passed a death sentence on him for something so relatively trivial, he'd be climbing the walls...quite literally if it meant getting out of there.

'When you get to my age and you are no longer considered useful, it's a blessing. Believe me, most men look forward to the release death offers.'

'Most men? Where are your men folk?' Sheppard asked.

'We are held captive in an encampment away from here.'

'Held captive. Why?'

'We work to keep the village running. We farm, we build, we do anything required of us, but we are not considered worthy to live among them.'

'I'm guessing you don't get paid for your work,' Sheppard ventured.

The way the man looked at him, as if payment was a completely foreign concept, told him they didn't. 'They give us food, and if we work hard enough we escape punishment. But it grows harder for me to keep up with the others with each passing year. I am too old to be useful now. I often go hungry or feel the sting of the lash.'

'That's slavery. They can't do that to you,' Sheppard breathed. 'Every man is entitled to his freedom.'

His cellmate shrugged his bony old shoulders. 'It's the way it has been for centuries. We have not known anything different in our lives.'

'What about the babies I saw out there in the village, the male ones. Do they come to your camp when they're old enough to leave their mothers?'

The man shook his head. "The youngsters are kept away from us, imprisoned at another camp where they are taught the rules of Medulsan life until they are old enough to come here and work. It has been many years since I was moved to the work camp; now I am old and of little use I have finally found a way out if there.'

Frowning, Sheppard looked him over again. The man couldn't be more than mid-sixties in age, hardly old by modern standards, yet he talked like his life was over anyway. 'No one's getting killed today. Not if I can help it.'

To Sheppard's surprise, the man lurched up to his unsteady legs and hurried across to him, catching hold of his arms. 'You must not interfere, or the same –' His voice trailed off as he looked at Sheppard, then a weak smile twitched onto his face. 'No...no...They will not kill you...not yet.'

Sheppard didn't like the way he'd suddenly changed his mind after getting a closer look at him. It reminded him of the way the women of the village had eyed him earlier. 'What do you mean? What's going on –?'

A shadow fell across them both and Sheppard looked up to see a woman opening the hatch above them. She was attractive in an unkempt way, her long, raven black hair looking like it had rarely seen a brush, and her tanned skin a little grubby in complexion. He didn't remember her from earlier, but there had been a lot of faces to take in. She glared at them both, her eyes fixing on him and staying there for longer than seemed necessary. Then, she pulled back and disappeared for a moment. The next moment, a handmade ladder dropped into the cell. 'Out. Both of you,' she ordered, running her eyes down to Sheppard's boots, then back up to his face again with something verging on a look of approval. It made his skin creep, but he averted his gaze so he didn't have to acknowledge it.

The older man caught hold of his arm again. 'Please...no heroics on my account. I'm ready to die,' he insisted.

The woman arched an eyebrow and smirked down at the major. 'You would be wise to follow the old man's advice,' she informed him.

Unable to promise that, Sheppard stepped back and allowed his cellmate to climb up before him. Once he was clear of the top, Sheppard followed him up.

The sunlight at the surface was dazzlingly bright and hot compared to the pit he'd just risen from. At first, he couldn't see much as he shielded his eyes against the glare. A shove in the back set him on his way, and once he'd grown accustomed to the light, he saw the woman his cellmate had called Allanae standing before him, with just about everyone else from the village crowding in behind her.

In front of her sat a bloodstained wood block, and beside it stood one of the burlies who had attacked him earlier. She clutched what looked like the bluntest, filthiest scimitar he'd ever seen in her thick fingers.

_Oh, no. This is not goin' down this way, _he thought, as Allanae raised her hands to silence the group's excited babbling.

'Today, we will witness the justice that comes to those who defy our laws,' she announced. 'Men have to know their place; defiance such as Balfor's and that of this man, Sheppard, will not be tolerated on Medulsa.'

Balfor. At least he had a name for the guy before they lopped his head off and rendered it redundant. Call it a quirk, but he always preferred to know who he'd let down; it gave him something to dwell on in his free time. Only now, as he scanned the crowd again, did he realise there were men there, not many, twenty-five at most, and all were on their knees with guns at their backs. What the hell kind of screwed up place was this? He made a mental note that this was absolutely the last time he ever, EVER, gave his gun up as a show of good will.

Allanae stepped up in front of Balfor. Just the merest hint of sympathy crossed her expression a moment before she spoke, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by sombre authority.

'Balfor, you have assaulted a village elder. You understand and accept the consequences of such an act?'

As if they sensed his growing outrage, Sheppard suddenly felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, pushing him downward. He didn't want to kneel, but the knife tip now scratching the skin beneath his left ear persuaded him he should comply. He couldn't see who was restraining him, but she had a formidably strong grip, and to add insult to injury, he spotted it was his own knife at his neck, another mocking reminder of his naivety.

Balfor nodded silently that he understood his sentence, allowing himself to be shoved forward to the block and kneeling behind it without protest. Without further instruction, he laid his head on its rough and randomly hacked surface, content to await his fate.

Sheppard felt the pressure of the knife reduce, the hand holding it simply resting lazily on his shoulder now. Well, that was this woman's first mistake as far as he was concerned. Moving that knife had given him room to manoeuvre. He wasn't about to sit back and watch a man hacked to death within only a few feet of him and do nothing about it. That wasn't in his nature.

Balfor's executioner took her mark beside him, raising the scimitar high above her head to take a full swing at her target. This was his moment. With the weight of the heavy sword above and behind her, Sheppard sprang up and threw himself into her, tipping her off balance. They fell in a heap, the major prising the weapon from her hands before anyone else reached them. Suddenly, he felt weight crushing in on him, squeezing the air from his lungs, and he realised several of the heavies were on top of him, grabbing the sword and ripping it away from him before he could launch any kind of defence. Hands clawed at his arms, and he struggled to crawl free from the seething pile of bodies until sheer numbers overwhelmed him. Eventually, they forced him face down on the dusty ground, his arms pinned behind his back by someone now sitting their full weight on him to restrain him, while another held his legs. After struggling some more, he admitted defeat. He might not have saved the guy, but at least he'd tried.

After restraining his arms and grabbing a fistful of his hair, the woman with the black hair dragged him back up to his kneeling position.

Allanae staggered toward him, her face pale with shock, momentarily too incensed by his behaviour to speak. Eventually, she found her tongue. 'Why...why would you do that?' she demanded.

'Because what you're doing here is wrong,' he growled, gritting his teeth as the woman holding him gave his hair another tug. 'Someone has to show you that.'

'These are the rules by which our people have lived and thrived for many hundreds of years,' she gasped, apparently wounded by his comment. 'How dare you come here and proclaim to know better than us?'

'Don't care how long you've been doing this, it's still wrong,' Sheppard hissed, getting a knee in the kidney for his troubles from his enthusiastic captor.

'I told you to stay out of this matter, stranger,' Balfor called to him. 'I am ready to leave this shameful existence.' He still knelt beside the block, calmly waiting for his executioner to regain her composure and her weapon.

'Silence,' the dark haired woman ordered them both.

'This will not do,' Allanae grumbled, looking back over her shoulder at Balfor and the expectant crowd. 'The ceremony has been broken – perhaps the gods saw fit to spare him. I cannot continue in the face of such questions. I need time to think about what should be done.'

'But Allanae,' the woman restraining Sheppard protested. 'You surely will not let this one's crimes go unpunished?'

'Five lashes for the new man,' the elder said with a dismissive wave of the hand as she walked away.

'He was due five anyway,' she reminded her.

'Then, give him ten.'

Sheppard grimaced as the woman pulled his head back, pressing her mouth to his ear to say, 'Perhaps this will teach you some respect, Sheppard.'

As he was dragged centre stage, he managed to strain a look at his antagonist; unconventionally pretty she might be, but she had the hardest eyes he'd ever seen. He burned that face into his memory for future reference. This one was dangerous – he needed to keep an eye on her.

Casting him to the floor, she cut his hands free, then two other brutishly large women caught hold of his wrists, pulling his arms straight out at his sides.

He glanced up and saw Balfor give him one last horrified look before turning away, unwilling to watch the display of control these women were about to demonstrate. Sheppard screwed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable bite as the sound of flying leather cut through the air behind him...


	3. Chapter 3

**I'll try to get the next chapter ready for tomorrow. If not, it will definitely be up on Saturday. Read and review, please! :D**

'So...they took Sheppard prisoner for speaking to the village elder?' Elizabeth clarified, her face slack with surprise.

The team had quickly gathered in her office to update her on the major's situation, but, in all honesty, she was having trouble believing what she was hearing.

Teyla nodded. 'He said nothing offensive, simply that we would leave if they truly felt we had nothing to offer them in trade. For some reason, they reacted very badly.'

'You were both armed in a primitive village, couldn't you have forced them to back off?'

'We had laid down our weapons as a show of good faith. I believe the major thought it would help the women to trust us more since their men were absent. Unfortunately, it seems we misjudged the situation.'

'Oh, you think so?' Rodney sniped. 'We should get back there with a few heavily armed troops and see what those women make of that! They'd soon hand him over.'

'Much as I appreciate your tactical input, Rodney, if you don't mind, I would like to try a more peaceful method of negotiating for Sheppard's release before sending the troops in,' Elizabeth replied, trying hard to suppress her smirk.

'They were very aggressive,' Teyla countered. 'They would not listen to anything I said in the major's defence, and I fear you may receive the same response.'

'You think taking troops back there is the answer?' Elizabeth asked, surprised to hear the suggestion from the normally peaceful Athosian.

'I think it would be wise to have troops ready in case your attempts to broker his release fail,' she stated. 'I suspect the are more familiar with weapons and defending themselves than we gave them credit for. It would be foolish to underestimate them again.'

Elizabeth looked at Ford, sitting on the edge of his seat and clearly keen to get back and help. He'd taken to the major in a way she believed had surprised even him. Sheppard did things differently to the marines – he had a more relaxed manner about him that meant he was willing to bend the rules – but where other marines might have had difficulty with that, Ford had adapted without a problem. She supposed it was because he was still young and not yet as set in his ways as some.

'All right,' Elizabeth conceded. 'I'll brief a team to come through the gate with us_. _You can lead them, Lieutenant.'

Ford flicked her a quick, agitated smile, still pensive as he listened to her instructions. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Teyla, you and I are heading back to P3C-287,' she added, rising from her seat.

'What do you want me to do?' Rodney asked, looking a little crestfallen that she hadn't mentioned him in her plans.

'Go back to your lab and work on minimising our power consumption some more, Rodney. We can handle this situation,' Elizabeth assured him.

As she passed by him on her way to gear up and brief the others ready for the trip, she heard him mutter, 'Way to make a man feel needed.'

Forcing down another smirk, she let that one slide. His ego was dented enough for one day.

oooOOOooo

The animosity hung so thick in the air it was almost tangible as Elizabeth and Teyla walked back into the village on P3C-287. The women swarmed out of their homes and into the centre of the village where the cooking fire burned, baking bread for the villagers. It smelled good, homely even, but Elizabeth didn't allow it to distract her from the fact these women had taken one of her people hostage by violent means.

Teyla dipped her head toward Allanae and fell back a pace as the elder strode across the clearing, signalling that Elizabeth was the one she should speak to. Elizabeth stopped her own advance and waited for the woman to come to her, immediately stamping her authority on the situation. She'd learned various psychological techniques to impress people in her time; she had the distinct impression she would need to call on most of them now.

Unusual as it was for her to carry a gun, Elizabeth sported a 9 mil in a thigh holster, again to give the impression of strength to these people. Although she found the thought of using a weapon against another living person abhorrent, she wasn't about to make the same mistake Sheppard had in facing them unarmed, not when it seemed they were no strangers to guns. She surreptitiously unclipped the holster and let her hand hang down near the weapon. 'Hello. My name is Dr Elizabeth Weir. I believe you've already met Teyla.'

The woman eyed her disdainfully, but this time gave her name. 'I am Allanae Ratoon, elder of this village.'

'Then we have something in common,' Elizabeth smiled. 'We're both leaders of our people.'

Allanae squinted back at her. 'You are too young,' she said, her tone suggesting she thought Elizabeth was lying to her.

Weir bit back her urge to argue with the woman and forced on another smile. 'I'll take that as a compliment. But where I come from, age isn't a factor in the role you play in society. Training and experience are considered far more important.'

The woman nodded. 'You don't look much like a warrior. What is your expertise?'

'I find solutions to problems.'

'And send men to fight your battles for you?'

'Men and women alike. Which brings me to the reason why I'm here. You have one of my colleagues held against his will and I'd like him back.' Weir diplomatically managed to remain polite without using the word "please". To her, please suggested there was room for manoeuvre, and she would not take no for an answer on this issue.

'He has broken the laws of our village. He has to be taught the correct way to behave.'

Elizabeth stiffened at the accusation, lifting her chin with pride. 'I think you'll find that by most people's standards, Major Sheppard was extremely courteous to you. So, unless you made him aware of your rules as he entered your village, I believe he did as much as could reasonably be expected of him.'

Allanae clearly didn't relish anyone telling her she was wrong. Weir doubted that happened often in a society such as this.

'We cannot allow men to walk freely about the village without showing them the error of their ways. If we allow your Major Sheppard to go free, others might come expecting hospitality from us, too,' the woman explained.

'I'm not concerned about what others might think. I'm concerned with having my military commander returned to his post...'

'If afraid we cannot let him go.'

'Cannot or will not?' Elizabeth demanded, her manner now assuming a more threatening tone. 'Where are you own men? Do you treat them all this way?'

'That is not your concern.'

Elizabeth conceded that point. 'That's true, but Major Sheppard is. So, I suggest you return him to us.'

From the corner of her eye, she spotted that Teyla suddenly felt the need to raise her gun. Elizabeth felt it, too – the mounting charge of mistrust in the air. Her hand slipped onto the butt of her weapon and grasped it. She only hoped they couldn't see how much she was shaking as she did it.

A dark haired woman stepped up to Allanae's shoulder. 'You would both be wise to hand over your weapons,' she advised them, her hard eyes fixing them with a fierce gaze.

'Oh, I don't think so. It's my understanding that doing that is what allowed you to overpower Major Sheppard.'

'You're outnumbered. If you don't give up your weapons, we will simply take them by force.'

Far from showing any fear in her expression, Elizabeth's smile simply broadened. 'And I have an open radio channel to an Ancient craft currently cloaked and hovering above the tree-line. If I give the order, it can fly in and drop a drone that will wipe out most of your village in one shot. Now, I don't really want to do that. So, perhaps you'll reconsider my request?'

Allanae and the aggressive brunette exchanged a glance. 'I do not believe them, Allanae –' the other woman began.

'Sergeant Stackhouse, please decloak your vessel.'

A puddlejumper appeared some several hundred yards behind them above the tree line, the drone launchers extending from the hull to add a flourish to the display of strength.

The women all shuffled back, suddenly less defiant in the face of such an amazing machine. Only Allanae and her raven-haired companion stood firm. 'This is some form of trickery...an illusion,' the younger woman whispered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Allanae held up a hand to silence her. 'Enough, Sarayah. The man has brought us nothing but trouble since he arrived here. We will give him back and be done with him.'

'But we need him,' Sarayah hissed, her expression more insistent now.

Weir puzzled over the comment. They needed Sheppard? She wondered what for. Allanae's next reaction made her temporarily push the thought aside.

'There will be others, Sarayah. Go and get him and let's be rid of these people and their machines of destruction.'

Sarayah glared at Allanae, clearly unhappy with her decision. 'Very well,' she grunted, stalking away across the clearing as she muttered curses under her breath.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard had long since given up trying to apologise to Balfor. In all honesty, he didn't even know why he was apologising; he'd saved his life, and taken all the punishment, so it seemed to him the guy should be at least a little bit grateful.

He hunched over, hugging his knees, not daring to allow his back to come in contact with anything. His shirt had stuck to his skin where some of the welts raised by the whip had bled and then dried up, and every time he moved it pulled on his injuries, sending a nauseous pain shooting through his stomach. Though he'd been sentenced to ten lashes, it had felt like more. He'd stopped counting after seven, when the screaming inside his head had become too distracting for the numbers to form. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline he had to hold it in, but he hadn't been about to give the woman with the whip the pleasure of hearing his cries. Of course, that was most likely why she'd slipped in a couple more thrashes than he'd been up for. Sometimes his stubbornness was his worst enemy.

The lump at the base of his skull felt excruciatingly tender as he rubbed at his stiff neck. It was at times like this that he felt grateful for having the thick skull his father had accused him of so often when they'd argued about his future. Though the blow had smarted like hell, it didn't seem to have done any lasting damage.

He was about to try and engage Balfor in conversation again when a shadow fell across him, and he heard the creak of the overhead gridded hatchway opening.

Pain lanced through his neck as he lifted his head to see what was happening. The woman who had publicly flogged him hung her head down into the opening and frowned at him. 'You. Up here.'

He wanted to refuse, but knew he couldn't take another whipping right now, so waited for the ladder and made his ascent. The woman barely gave him enough room to stand once he'd reached the top, positioning herself between him and the opening. An awkward stalemate ensued; with Sheppard unwilling to move, and the woman seemingly unwilling to step aside. Eventually, Sheppard heard someone call, 'Sarayah, let him pass.'

He recognised the voice of Allanae, and when his eyes sought her out, he found Elizabeth and Teyla standing beside her, with a jumper hovering nearby.

'Thank God!' he sighed, practically shouldering Sarayah aside as he walked toward them. Though clearly annoyed by his actions, the woman didn't respond.

He tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt as he walked, but Elizabeth was quick to notice there was a problem, just as she always was.

'Are you all right, John?' she asked, squinting at him as he approached.

'Well, I've had better days,' he admitted. 'But it's okay now you two are here. I take it you talked some sense into these people?'

'Allanae has agreed to release you back to us,' Elizabeth nodded.

'Cool. I knew you'd know how to deal with them. Thanks for bringing her, Teyla.'

Teyla just gave him a tight smile, her eyes quickly scanning the village again to ensure against any unexpected attacks.

'Perhaps you could return Major Sheppard's equipment to him, and then we'll be on our way,' Elizabeth suggested to the elder.

Allanae, turned to a young woman at her side and nodded, sending her scurrying away.

Sheppard felt Sarayah arrive at his shoulder, still trying to intimidate him with her proximity. He peered back at her, giving her a crooked smile. 'Well, it's been nice to meet you all, but now I have to go back to the real world where people aren't quite so whacked.'

'Pity. And we were just getting acquainted,' she growled.

'So, what about Balfor. Is he coming, too?' Sheppard asked Elizabeth.

'Who's Balfor?' she asked.

'Just some poor old guy they're gonna kill.'

Allanae looked at him as if he might be speaking another language. 'Balfor belongs to us. He goes with no one else.'

'Can you believe these people? They talk about men like they're a piece of property,' Sheppard said, feeling a shove in his back now for his trouble. 'Ouch!'

When he turned to give Sarayah a piece of his mind, he heard Elizabeth's shocked gasp.

'What have you done to him?' she demanded. 'He was only in your custody for a few hours.'

'I told you. We kept him here to punish him for his earlier actions. And in the interim, he interrupted an important ceremony, so his punishment was increased.'

Sheppard rolled his eyes, thinking, _Way to gloss over things! _'I stopped you killing a man who'd committed no real crime,' he growled.

'And you certainly didn't waste any time carrying out his penalty,' Elizabeth snapped. 'Are you sure you're okay, John?'

He tried to shrug, but couldn't. 'It's nothing Carson won't be able to patch up for me.'

'Perhaps there is some way we can apologise to you,' Allanae said to Weir. Sheppard doubted she actually felt any kind of regret about what they'd done. It seemed clear to him that Allanae was a little afraid of Elizabeth and what she represented. He wondered what Weir had felt forced to say to secure his release. No doubt he'd hear about it later...when she gave him grief about handing over his weapon so readily.

The young girl who had hurried away to retrieve his gear returned holding his Tac-Vest, P90, handgun, knife, and earpiece. Before taking them, Sheppard asked for a moment to speak to the Atlantis commander before taking them back. He guided Weir a short distance from the group.

'You should ask them to hand Balfor over to us,' he suggested. 'That would be a good apology.'

'I can't do that, John. I have no jurisdiction here, and he's one of their people.'

'They were going to kill him for defending himself against an assault!'

Elizabeth calmly held his gaze while his own emotions began to skyrocket. 'I can't do anything about that, John. I'm sorry.'

Apparently sensing their agitation, Teyla walked over to join them. 'Is something wrong, Dr Weir?'

Without looking away from him, Elizabeth replied, 'No. John is about to collect his gear, and then we can go.'

'Not without helping Balfor and the other males on this planet, I'm not,' Sheppard assured her.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. 'You want me to ask them to hand over all the other males here, too. That's a big apology.'

'They're being held as slaves, Elizabeth. We can't just walk away and leave them like this.'

'And although I agree with your sentiment, I can't just tell these women to hand them over! We're supposed to be peaceful explorers; I won't go around dictating to people how to run their societies.'

Teyla looked uneasy. John sensed she was torn between both of their views and didn't know what to say to help. _Great, so now she loses the ability to do the talking thing, _he thought, flashing her a look that begged her to support him. She offered him a sympathetic smile in return.

He sighed, sensing he was fighting a losing battle, but determined to make Elizabeth change her mind. 'If it was a bunch of men treating women this way, would you be so happy to walk away?' he asked Elizabeth.

He saw the sureness in her resolve falter; he'd caught her out. 'This isn't about gender, John –'

'Well, I think it is,' he hissed back, barely keeping his temper in check. 'You seem to think because it's men being held by women that somehow makes it a less serious human rights issue.'

'That's not what I think at all.'

'No? Then help them,' he charged.

Sarayah joined them now, clearly bothered by their hushed discussions. 'Allanae would like you to take your male and go,' she growled to Elizabeth, fixing her harsh glare on the major as she spoke.

'Major Sheppard is free to do as he pleases. I'm not taking him anywhere until he's ready,' Elizabeth replied, clearly making what she felt was an important point.

'You give him a choice?' Sarayah asked, as if the very concept was repulsive.

If she hadn't been a woman, Sheppard would have floored her where she stood. But some deep-rooted sense of gallantry kept him from striking her, a sense just as sexist as Elizabeth's refusal to act to help the men of the village, he realised.

'So, are you going to help them?' he asked Elizabeth again.

'I can't do that, John. Surely you can understand that?'

'Not really, no.'

Looking exasperated, Elizabeth lost her patience with him. 'Would you give Major Sheppard his equipment back? We're leaving,' she said to the young woman clutching his things.

The girl jumped at the force of her request, and stepped forward, trembling as she tried to pass them to him.

He held up a hand. 'You hold onto those for a moment. I'm not finished yet,' he told her.

Sarayah looked between Elizabeth and Sheppard, confused by their behaviour. 'Will you allow him to talk to you this way?'

'We're equals. I don't get to tell him what he can and can't say.' Elizabeth was now glaring at the major, silently commanding him to take possession of his belongings. He didn't, just stared right back at her, determined to force her hand and make her convince these people of the error of their ways.

Allanae joined them, puzzled by the fact they were all still there. 'Is there anything else you need from us to satisfy our agreement,' she asked Elizabeth, wringing her hands.

'We are giving them the man; that's more than enough,' Sarayah pointed out.

'The _man_ has a name,' Sheppard grunted.

'Yes, he does. And I am ordering you to take back your gear and follow me to the jumper, Major Sheppard,' Weir announced, taking him by surprise with her suddenly austere attitude.

For a moment or two he didn't react, couldn't in fact, then he planted his hands on his hips and stood firm. 'I guess the equality only goes so far, huh, _Dr Weir_?'

'We're leaving now,' Elizabeth said by way of ending the conversation she clearly felt was best finished elsewhere.

Unfortunately, she'd managed to activate Sheppard's rebellion button, and his ego was in full swing. 'You go on ahead. I'll stay here and see if I can talk these people round.'

Her jaw slackened, and suddenly the welcome Allanae had offered, if under duress, lessened. 'I assume you can find your way back to the gate, Dr Weir? If not, I can offer the assistance of one of the villagers to help you.'

'Thank you, but that won't be necessary,' Elizabeth assured her, her eyes still fixed on Sheppard, but now wordlessly pleading with him to change his mind. He gave no ground. 'All right, Teyla and I will leave, but this isn't the end of the matter. We'll be back for Major Sheppard in the near future, so I'd thank you to take better care of him than you have so far.'

Sarayah slapped a hand on his shoulder and he gritted his teeth against the ripple of pain it sent coursing down his shredded back. 'I will personally give him my full attention,' she assured both Elizabeth and Teyla. Unfortunately, that thought was more worrying to Sheppard than if she'd refused to give her word. But he had to stick to his principles. These men needed his help.

With one final, pleading look, Elizabeth instructed Teyla that they were leaving, so they reluctantly turned away and began their trek back to the jumper empty handed. Sheppard couldn't help but smile at the thought of the ear bending Rodney would give them over coming back without him, but then he saw Teyla turn back and give him a worried glance and felt mean for putting her through this. He could have gone back to Atlantis with them and given Elizabeth hell over her attitude to the village men's plight, but no, he'd chosen to stay. At the back of his mind he knew why he'd done it. It was emotional blackmail – a way of ensuring Elizabeth felt compelled to give the situation more thought. Not the smartest tactic he'd ever employed, but it felt necessary. He didn't want the plight of these men to go ignored once they were all back in the safety of the city. This was too big an injustice to be swept under the carpet and denied.

Sarayah's hand squeezed a little tighter on his shoulder as she steered him away toward his underground cell. Only then, as she prodded and poked his injured back until he reached the hatch did he realised he'd allowed his pride to colour his judgement of the situation. He'd been worried Elizabeth would talk circles around him and persuade him to drop the cause of these men if he'd returned to Atlantis with her. Staying, however, no longer seemed the best option, particularly when Sarayah helped him back into the underground lock up without the aid of a ladder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, I will try to get the next chapter up tomorrow, at worst it will be Sunday. Please keep reading and reviewing!**

That night, while Sheppard did his best to sleep on the cold, damp floor of his underground prison, Sarayah kept watch through the hatch. The moonlight illuminated him where he lay, highlighting his face as he stirred in his restless slumbers. She watched, drinking him in, feeling an odd mixture of emotions toward the stranger that she struggled to understand.

Much as she found his resistance to their ways repugnant, it had also piqued an odd fascination she couldn't quell. This one wasn't going to take his imprisonment quietly, and for some reason, that thought gave her a thrill of excitement – something she'd not felt in her work for a long time. She enjoyed punishing the men, reducing them to cowering submission gave her a tremendous sense of satisfaction, but most of them now acquiesced without question, so the occasions to discipline them were few and far between. As such, the thought of teaching this one their rules was pleasing her more than she had expected, and she was impatient for his training to begin.

Sheppard shifted in his sleep, groaning as pain registered at some level in his unconscious mind. The sound set Sarayah's stomach fluttering like a dozen caged birds – a feeling she was unused to. She wondered what it was about this man that fascinated her so. He was young, but not as young as some of the others she was in charge of. He was strong, but again, no stronger than some of the others. His skin had a healthy glow she could see even now in the pallid light of the moon, a hue and texture that made her want to reach out and touch him...but she couldn't tonight, not here in the village where others might question her motives. And his eyes...his eyes held a determination and intelligence she didn't see in any of the others. They looked on her with dull, lifeless eyes, as if their imprisonment had leeched the light out of them. This one still had spirit – a quality she hadn't tasted for years, not since the last man they'd snatched when he blundered into their village. But that man hadn't been as striking as this one and she'd soon lost interest. Sheppard was tall and lean, by no means powerful in stature, but he had presence...vitality...everything the other men lacked. His physical attributes and strength of character made him...captivating. There was no other way she could describe him. She hadn't been able to get the thought of him out of her head all afternoon since she'd dealt out his punishment.

Rolling onto his other side, Sheppard sucked in a sharp breath, and she pulled back in case he woke. He didn't, just settled back into his troubled sleep. The thought of his discomfort pleased her; it made him more vulnerable than he'd seemed earlier when she'd punished him. Then, he'd made almost no sound, which had left her wondering if these strangers were somehow physically stronger than them. She had no idea where he was from, so it was possibly he could be different in some ways. Now, she could see she'd hurt him, a fact that would make controlling him easier than she'd feared it might be. She would have him begging for leniency before the week was out, just as she did with each new prisoner who found themselves under her command.

Moving to the other side of the hatchway gave her a better view of his face again. She smiled as a grimace flickered across his features, sending another thrill rushing through her with the increased beating of her heart. The morning was still hours away, but she found herself longing for it to come so she could take him back to the encampment and away from Allanae's prying eyes. The elder was growing weak willed in her old age, and often reined her in when she saw her disciplining the prisoners. Away from the elder's restrictive rule she would begin Sheppard's indoctrination, gradually breaking down his defences until he bowed to her instruction, unlike the way he had refused to take orders from Dr Weir. Refusal to comply was not an option for men on Medulsa, and he was going to learn that the hard way if he continued to question them the way he had so far.

As she lay down beside the hatch to watch him for a while longer, she recalled the woman's parting demand. She would take care of this man, although she doubted they shared the same opinions of how best to do that. But what she did know was she would happily give this male her undivided attention for as long as it took.

oooOOOooo

When the sun rose and filtered into the hatch of the cell the next morning it hit Sheppard square in the eyes, waking him to the painful reality of his surroundings. The skin on his back had tightened over night, making his first movements utter agony as he cautiously pulled his shirt free from the patches of congealed blood trapping it against him. His head thrummed with a dull, nauseous ache, probably as much down to his poor night of sleep as the crack on the base of his skull. He rubbed deep circles on his temples to alleviate the throbbing, but it did little to help. This headache was here for the duration.

Balfor was already awake, leaning back against the wall and watching Sheppard as he tried to get moving. 'The pain in your back will ease considerably after a few more days,' he said, though the words brought little comfort to his cellmate.

'Don't intend to be here that long,' the major assured him.

Sheppard's throat burned like he was trying to swallow hot sand. Neither he nor Balfor had been offered any food or drink the previous day, and now his gullet was almost completely bereft of moisture. 'So, what can I expect today?' he asked, forcing his voice out anyway.

'Today begins the rest of your life,' Balfor said, with just a hint too much melodrama for Sheppard's liking.

'Look, Balfor. I know things look pretty grim right now, but my people will come back to get me, and I guarantee that when they do, things will change for all the men of this village.'

Balfor shook his head, smiling sadly. 'I'm sorry, my boy. Yesterday's meeting was the last you will see of your people. Today, you will be moved to the work encampment . There, they can hear everything that comes through the gate. They can hide you if necessary – at least for as long as it takes for your people to tire of looking for you.'

'I think you're underestimating my people,' Sheppard said smugly. 'They don't tire easy.'

'And I believe you are underestimating mine,' Balfor replied. 'The numbers of men serving the village have dropped recently due to a devastating illness. It swept through our camp, killing many and leaving several infected and too sick to work. They need to hold on to every fit young male they can find. They won't let a man like you go willingly.'

Sheppard's eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of confusion and concern. 'Got a lot of work for me to do, huh?'

'Amongst other things.'

Before he could ask for clarification of "other things", Sheppard heard the telltale sound of the hatch opening above them. He didn't bother looking up, knowing whoever was up there would bark their orders soon enough.

He recognised Sarayah's voice as soon as she did. 'I want both of you up here, now.'

The ladder descended, and Sheppard gestured for Balfor to climb it first, shielding his eyes against the bright sun as he steadied the ladder and watched him climb. Once the older man was safely up, Sheppard made short work of mounting it, though his back stung and his ankle felt sore from the sudden descent he'd taken the previous afternoon. Having practiced dropping and rolling more times than he could recall had helped to lessen the impact on his joints, but the surprise of being pushed down there in that way had left his responses a little slower than required.

Once at ground level, the woman prodded them over toward the cooking fire where the remnants of breakfast sat in baskets beside it. There wasn't much left, mostly bread and fruit, but considering how hungry he felt, he hoped they were planning to share it.

As Balfor landed on his knees in the dirt, Sarayah subjected Sheppard to the most thorough frisk he'd ever experienced. He couldn't help but feel she was taking a little longer over it than was entirely necessary or appropriate. He was prepared to put it down to his natural paranoia about physical contact , something that had been on full alert since first meeting Allanae yesterday, until he saw the expression on Balfor's face, which suggested he also thought it was a little too touchy-feely. A brief moment of panic crossed his mind when he wondered just how intimately she needed to check him, but thankfully a voice cut in and interrupted her.

'We searched him when he was unconscious yesterday, Sarayah. There's no need to do it again.'

He peered over his shoulder to find one of the heavy mob who'd some after him with the clubs striding over. He swore he'd never seen as much muscle on a woman. Even Schwarzenegger would have quaked in his boots at the sight of her.

Sarayah removed her hands from him, but didn't back away to give him his space. 'Doesn't hurt to be cautious,' she called to her comrade. 'Especially not with this one. He's already proved himself to be difficult.'

A kick to each of the backs of his knees sent him spilling into the dust, where he sat back on his heels next to Balfor. Sarayah snatched up a couple of small loaves and tossed them to the two men. 'Here, eat these. You'll need your strength for the walk to the encampment.'

'But I am to be executed!' Balfor protested, much to Sheppard's chagrin.

'Not any more. Your pretty friend here has made Allanae reconsider her decision.'

Balfor glared at him, and Sheppard quipped, 'You're welcome.' But the exchange did little to distract him from the fact Sarayah had called him "pretty". Beside the fact he found being addressed by what he considered a feminine term offensive, it also suggested a level of attraction that he didn't even want to contemplate. Now, he felt certain the frisk had been more for her personal enjoyment than for safety reasons. That thought made his stomach churn over, and suddenly the bread didn't seem all that appetising.

Another woman arrived with a pitcher of water and two wooden cups. Sarayah thanked her and took the cups, holding them as they were filled, then sent the woman away again. She handed one cup to Balfor, but held the other back.

Sheppard refused to look desperate, despite the fact his throat felt dry as kindling. She was playing him, that much was obvious, and he didn't want to feed her any potential reasons to add to his injuries when he already felt so rough.

'So, you're a military commander I understand,' she said, twisting the cup around in her hands. 'That's something we have in common. I command the warriors of our village.'

Sheppard raised his eyes to hers, staring into the hard, dark irises. 'You must be very proud,' he said, keeping his tone flat and unchallenging.

'Perhaps we could exchange experiences some time,' she suggested.

The fire dancing in her eyes told him she wasn't necessarily talking about leadership or tales of battle. Although he didn't want to take another pummelling right now, this was a turn in their prisoner/gaoler relationship he wanted to cut dead. 'I don't think so. My experiences are...classified,' he told her with a forced smile.

She gave a strange twitch of the head, eyeing him as if she weren't sure what that meant. She looked down at the cup in her hands and he could almost hear the cogs turning as she considered what to do with it. Sheppard had the sneaking suspicion that, for one reason or another, the water wasn't going to make it past his parched lips.

'I see,' she said quietly, supping from the drink and swilling it around her mouth before spitting it back into the cup. 'Let me give you a word of advice, Sheppard. Saying no to me will only bring you more trouble than you can handle. You should practice saying "Yes" some more. That word is your friend, and if you learn to use it, I will be, too. It would be such a pity for anything bad happened to this pretty face. I would really prefer to keep it this way.'

She caught hold of his chin, but he snatched his head away, instantly breaking the contact. Her eyes narrowed as she visibly fought to hold her temper in check, slamming the cup into his hand and slopping most of its contents down his shirtfront as she stomped away, ordering Muscles to keep an eye on him.

Sheppard tipped the rest of the drink onto the ground in front of him. He wasn't that desperate for a drink yet. Muscles looked at him with an odd smirk, as if she was party to some joke he wasn't in on. When he glanced at Balfor, the man's expression was one of condolence.

'Those "other things" you mentioned...' Sheppard ventured.

But he didn't have to finish the question. Balfor dropped his head in shame. 'The village has to be populated.'

Sheppard closed his eyes and breathed, 'Oh, crap.' Why couldn't Balfor have let that slip before Elizabeth had shown up yesterday? If he'd known that...What? Would he have walked away and left these guys to suffer. No. That wasn't his style. But neither was augmenting populations. With his friends at his side, this might have almost seemed comical, but here, alone...well, he didn't like to think too much about how it made him feel, but some deep rooted fear was stirring inside him, triggered by his sense of futility.

He took a bite of his bread and chewed it angrily. If he'd had his head screwed on yesterday, he'd have seen this coming. How else would the village have been teeming with children? The kids had to be fathered by someone. But he never saw this kind of thing coming. He really had to wise up some time and stop giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Until now, he'd made his way through life with the belief that not all people were bad; he wondered if it might be wiser to remember they weren't all good, either. He'd been burned often enough in the past, perhaps it was time to open his eyes to the truth.

With his bread all gone and his throat drier than ever, he was grateful when Balfor shoved his cup of water toward him. 'Here, I saved you some.'

Sheppard took it with an appreciative smile, polishing off the contents just as Sarayah reappeared with Allanae, and carrying a set of cuffs in her hands. She saw him lowering the cup and threw a furious glare in Balfor's direction. However, since she hadn't forbidden him from sharing his water with their new prisoner, she appeared reluctant to punish him. Instead, she rounded the major, catching his right wrist and snapping one of the cuffs shut around it, tugging his arm behind his back.

'Having discussed your supposed experience as a military commander, Allanae and I feel it might be better if you are restrained during transit from the village to the encampment,' she explained, leaning her mouth to his ear as she trapped his left wrist, too. 'Wouldn't want you trying to escape before we even get you there, would we?'

Her lips brushed his ear just slightly as she spoke, sending a shudder through him. Not that he wasn't used to dealing with unwanted female attentions, but usually he wasn't cuffed and on his knees when it happened. She slapped his back, eliciting a groan he really didn't want to let out, then pulled a gun. The design looked familiar to him, and for a moment he couldn't quite place it. Then, he recognised it as Genii. Were these women somehow allied with Atlantis' enemies?

'You should have left with your friends yesterday, boy. You have chosen to stay, and so shall be assimilated into our way of life,' Allanae informed him.

'Will he be assuming "full" duties?' Sarayah asked, her free hand resting on his chest as she pulled him back against her, pressing her gun to his temple.

Allanae gave the matter some thought. Sheppard pretty much guessed what, "full duties" meant, and hoped the village elder would see fit to cut him some slack. He tried not to sigh with relief when she said, 'No. Give him two weeks to settle into the work routine, then we will review the situation.'

Grunting her disapproval, Sarayah jerked his cuffs, forcing him to stand without the benefit of his arms for leverage or balance. It was awkward, but he managed it, although he was certain it would have been easier if he weren't suffering from the after-effects of a mild concussion and a flogging. 'Come, Alishia. Let's put these men to work,' she said to her muscle-bound colleague.

Sheppard couldn't help but wonder how the woman mountain could possibly be named anything so feminine. Still, he supposed she'd been a cute little girl once, hard as that was to believe now as she shoved him out in front of her and set both he and Balfor on their journey. If the encampment was near the 'gate it would only be a few clicks away, which was nothing to him, even with his sore ankle and back. He'd endured a lot worse in his time. Hopefully, he might be able to find someone there more willing to fight for their rights than Balfor was. If not, he had to hope Elizabeth didn't stay pissed with him for too long, since she remained his best hope of getting out of there, with or without winning these men their freedom.


	5. Chapter 5

Teyla found Elizabeth busily tidying her office when she arrived there the following morning. The Atlantis leader looked tired and pale, and Teyla suspected she'd had little sleep, just as she had struggled to settle. On returning from P3C-287, Rodney had immediately confronted them and demanded to know why they hadn't brought Sheppard back to Atlantis. When they'd explained exactly what had happened he'd looked mildly shocked, then asserted that they should have done more before striding away muttering something about calibrations and EM fields that she had found too difficult to comprehend. That was what Rodney did when he felt frustrated and helpless; he lost himself in work to distract himself from his sense of futility. But his words had struck a chord. There had to be something more they could do.

'Have you thought any more about how to deal with the major's situation, Dr Weir?' Teyla asked, disturbing the woman from her tidying.

Elizabeth jumped at the question, pressing her hand to her chest and laughing a little as she turned to face her. 'Teyla, I didn't realise you were there.'

'Yes. You do seem...busy,' Teyla replied, allowing her gaze to drift around the room.

'Well, things were getting a bit chaotic in here, so I thought I should tackle it now before it got out of hand.'

Teyla recognised the signs of Elizabeth's anxiety, but accepted her excuse without question. Over the few months she had spent on Atlantis with the peoples of Earth, she had learned that control was important to Dr Weir, probably because she was a civilian among so many military people. Sheppard's abduction was something as yet out of her control, and as such would undoubtedly bother her until it was resolved.

'Would you like some help?' Teyla offered, hoping to engage her.

Elizabeth stopped what she was doing and looked around her, letting go a deep sigh. 'Actually, I could do with a break,' she said, sitting down and signalling for Teyla to take a seat.

'So, have you given Major Sheppard's situation any further thought?' Teyla ventured again.

Dr Weir gave her a grim smile. 'I've thought of little else since we left him in that village yesterday. That man is so infuriating at times.'

'He certainly knows his mind,' Teyla said, agreeing without actually criticising her commanding officer.

'I'm not so sure about that,' Elizabeth huffed. 'He's gone off on some kind of crusade without giving it any proper thought. He has no idea what those women are capable of, or why they treat men the way they do. He can't possibly know all that after just a few hours with them.'

'He knows how violent they can be,' Teyla pointed out. 'He must feel very strongly that what the women of the village are doing is wrong to place himself in that danger.'

'Oh, I don't doubt he does. But I can't just go marching around the Pegasus Galaxy telling people how to live their lives,' Elizabeth protested. Yet, even as she said the words, Teyla could sense her questioning herself.

'But you think he has a point?'

'Of course he has a point...and I'm afraid if it had been women there...'

'...you would have argued more strongly for them?'

Weir dropped her face into her hands, rubbing her eyes. 'I confess, I don't enjoy having my failings pointed out to me. I think I may have let my feelings rule the way I handled the situation. I tried to give him an order in front of them; he was never going to go with that. It would have crushed his argument.'

Teyla offered her a sympathetic smile. As a leader of her people, she understood the pressures Elizabeth was under managing the staff of Atlantis with their many and diverse needs and attitudes better than anyone else there. They desperately needed allies and trading partners, and telling people they were wrong to live their lives the way they did wasn't the best way to secure friendships. Yet she, too, felt she had let the major down on this issue. She felt certain that if it had been men treating women so badly, she would have stayed and fought for their emancipation just as he had chosen to.

'Perhaps you and I could work together to formulate a manner in which to address the problem without causing offence,' Teyla suggested. 'I have experience of dealing with difficult people, just as I know you have.'

'That's a good idea, and I'm sure your knowledge would be a great help,' Elizabeth smiled, welcoming her suggestion. 'Do you have time to start now?'

'Of course.'

But before they could begin, Rodney bustled in, not even lifting his eyes from his tablet long enough to notice Teyla was there.

'So, I've been studying the information I gathered while on P3C-287, and I'm almost sure that the power spikes are coming from a ZedPM.'

'Good morning, Rodney. Did you sleep well?' Elizabeth chirped, coaxing him to behave more like a human and less like an automaton.

'Sleep...huh...chance would be a fine thing with all the work I have to do...oh, Teyla. You're here.'

'Yes, Rodney. Good morning?'

He gave a small humph in return.

'So, a ZPM?' Elizabeth said, as he buried his head in his work again. 'Are you sure?'

'No, that's why I said "almost sure". I can't be certain until we return to the planet to find it. I think I've pretty much pinpointed its location from the data I collected while on the planet, so it shouldn't take long.'

'And by "we", you mean...?'

'Teyla, Ford and I...along with a few marines to protect us...'

'So, no plans to try to break Sheppard out, then?' Elizabeth asked, her mouth puckering into a barely controlled smile.

Rodney looked like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie barrel. 'No...no...not unless we happened to stumble across him...purely by chance, of course.'

Elizabeth sighed and stood up, rounding her desk to talk with him. 'Rodney, I know you want to get Sheppard back, we all do, but charging in there all guns blazing might put him in more danger than he's already in. And I'm sorry, but until this matter is resolved, or at least until we have a better understanding of what's going on down there, I won't agree to any more teams heading to that planet. I don't intend to lose anyone else to these people. Understood?'

'But what about the ZedPM? At least let me go back and get that. It would prove invaluable to our –'

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. 'Are you suggesting that you go there and steal a ZPM while they're holding Major Sheppard hostage?'

Teyla saw Rodney's eyes dart nervously as he realised he was being accused of acting thoughtlessly again. 'Well, they're primitive and whatever it's powering isn't even working properly at the moment, so I doubt they'd miss it.'

'If it's not working properly, what makes you think it'll be any use to us?' she probed, folding her arms and staring intently at him.

'Well, because the signals are strong when they appear. I don't think the ZedPM is depleted, I think whatever it's powering is broken,' he replied smugly.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth still refused to back down. 'I'm not willing to take the risk of underestimating these people a second time, Rodney. No one goes down to that planet unannounced, okay? This is a political matter. I plan to deal with it as such.'

Pouting, Rodney whined, 'Okay, fine. But I'm telling you that thing is wasted on them,' and shuffled back out of the office, shaking his head now, too.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, smiled warmly at Teyla, returned to her seat, then said, 'Now. Where were we?'

oooOOOooo

The walk to the prison camp wasn't that hard on the major, although he could have done without the tripping. The ground was uneven and littered with hidden obstacles that Sheppard's feet seemed determined to find. Actually, it wasn't the tripping that bothered him so much as the falling with no hands to stop himself, meaning if he didn't manage to get his knees down first and lean back, his face took the full brunt of the fall. By the time he got to the 'gate encampment, his knees were scraped, his face grubby, and the welts on his back throbbed from having his shoulders pulled back for so long. Still, at least the weather was nice.

As he and Balfor were led through the twelve-feet-high wooden post walls, he realised that he'd passed over the camp in the puddle jumper the day before, but had imagined it was some kind of cattle yard, so basic were the structures. Many were little more than wooden lean-tos, with windows boarded over and roofs in poor repair. They reminded him of the images of prison-of-war camps he'd seen from the Second World War, yet it had never even crossed his mind that people might live there – if this could be called living at all.

After allowing them both a few mouthfuls of water, this time minus the additions, their captors marched them out again at gunpoint and took them to a field some half a click away by his estimation. Large sections, all of a roughly equal size, were cordoned off with branches and string. Sarayah snatched up a rudimentary gardening fork while shoving Sheppard in the direction of a currently unoccupied section. Unlocking his cuffs, she pushed the fork into his hands.

'The top soil of this area needs to be turned before you finish today. So, you'd better get down to it.'

He looked down at the implement she expected him to use, a roughly cast, metal-pronged fork tied to a handle that was little more than a reasonably straight branch, its surface rough and with patches of bark still grimly clinging on. He could tell the damned thing was going to shred his palms to ribbons, and guessed that was the point. Looking around at the dozens of other men already hard at work, he gave Sarayah one last filthy look and jabbed the prongs into the tough, dry ground, pressing his full weight on it just to break the surface deeply enough to cover the fork. It made his ankle ache, but he figured since he had no choice he'd find a way to cope. He glanced up at the sun, already warm in what he supposed was now mid morning. He suspected this was going to be a long, hard day...

oooOOOooo

Around three hours later, Muscles called the men to a halt. A cattle drawn cart had arrived bearing food and water for the workforce, and they dropped their tools and all began a slow saunter toward it, limbs heavy from the relentless pace they had been forced to keep up.

Sheppard carefully circled his shoulders, trying not to aggravate his injuries as he loosened up his aching muscles. It was scorching hot now, but he hadn't dared to take of his shirt as some of the others had in case he got sunburn on his lacerations. Now _that_ he could seriously do without.

He allowed the others to go to the wagon before him, figuring they deserved it more than he did since they'd already been toiling when he'd arrived. His throat was burning with thirst, and his stomach cramping with hunger, but he wanted to show he was strong enough to wait.

Sarayah sat in the back of the cart handing out the rations. Again, it didn't look too appetising, but it was better than nothing after hours of hard labour. When he eventually reached the back of the cart and held out his hands to accept his meal, Sarayah caught hold of his wrist, pulling his right hand closer to examine it. She squinted at the blood and blisters, an approving smile on her face. 'Seems you've been working hard, pretty one. You can have extra fruit to reward your efforts.'

He doubted the additional rations were meant just as a reward, but as she threw a couple of extra pieces of bruised fruit onto his dish he mumbled his thanks, taking both it and the cup of water she held out to him. He could feel her eyes burning into him as he walked away, and, feeling awkward, he sought out the only familiar face there. Sitting down next to Balfor, Sheppard couldn't help but notice how exhausted the man looked. If this was how he was made to feel every day, he supposed he understood why the man might welcome the death sentence they'd passed on him.

'Are you okay?' Shepard asked.

'Better for this respite,' the older man replied, his voice weak and strained.

'Is this what you do every day?'

'Not this specific task, but it is always hard work.'

Sheppard nodded, spotting that Balfor had considerably less to eat than he had. Feeling guilty that his intervention had prolonged the man's suffering, he passed Balfor something resembling and orange, which he accepted gratefully.

'Why'd they give you so little to eat?'

'Because I haven't turned over as much ground as they expect by this time.'

'But you had a late start,' Sheppard pointed out.

'They do not care about such things,' Balfor half-laughed. 'I must finish my allocated area before I am allowed to rest tonight.'

From the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw Sarayah start over in his direction. Her constant interest was giving him a growing sense of discomfort now. Opinionated and aggressive he could handle, but this switching from bad cop to good cop, always with the underlying insinuation of attraction, left him completely wrong-footed.

She stood between him and the sun, casting some much-needed shade on his hot skin. 'Hold out your hands,' she ordered him.

He peered up at her, chewing on a mouthful of food he'd managed to tear free from a stale bread cake. 'Can I finish eating first?' he muffled, trying not to spit crumbs. She arched an eyebrow and he suspected not, putting his dish down beside him and extending his arms toward her.

She took the lid from a pot she pulled from her pocket, turning over his hands so they were palms up and smearing them with a thick coat of the oily contents. It stung like a bitch, but he bit back a gasp and let her rub it until it soaked into his skin. Without any further explanation she walked away, stuffing the pot into her pocket as she did.

'Thanks,' he muttered, sniffing at the rank smelling ointment his hands were now lathered in.

'It's to keep the wounds cleaner while you work. They do it to all of us in the early days, but you'll soon find your skin toughens to the point of not needing it.'

'Like I said before, I don't plan to be around that long,' the major assured him, continuing with his meal while hoping the oily gunk on his hands didn't mar its taste any further. The look the man gave him told Sheppard Balfor doubted he was getting out of there any time soon. 'My people will come for me, and if I want to leave I can,' he told him, grimly clinging on to that belief.

Balfor shook his head somewhat sadly. 'I don't think they'll let you go so easily now, my boy. You are strong, good stock. So many of us have been falling sick lately, they need to increase our numbers for the community to survive.'

Again, Sheppard found himself wishing Balfor had shared that much detail before he'd sent Elizabeth away with a flea in her ear.

He finished his lunch in silence, keeping his eye on Sarayah, who in return watched him like an eagle waiting to pounce on its prey. Refusing to allow her to intimidate him, he took his bowl back along with all the others, then got back to his work without complaint.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I should be able to keep the updates coming daily. If not, the longest you will have to wait is an extra day. Thanks for all the reviews - keep them coming! :D**

The sun had cooled considerably when Sheppard turned the final forkful of soil in his allotted section. He stood straight and took a moment to admire the scenery, realising that in other circumstances, Medulsa was a truly beautiful planet. Rolling hills, stretch out toward the horizon, a vast expanse of unspoiled landscape. It looked such a peaceful place. Amazing how nature's beauty could mask the true horrors of a world, he found himself musing.

Slipping off his T-shirt, he wiped away the beads of sweat running down his forehead and arms, but quickly pulled it back on when he sensed, rather than saw, Sarayah approaching.

'You needn't dress on my account,' she demurred, her eyes wandering across his torso where his shirt clung to him with perspiration. He resisted the urge to tell her he begged to differ, choosing silence as the better option. He was way too tired for any unavoidable punishment right now.

'I see you've finished,' she continued. 'You can join the others who've completed their work for the day and I'll walk you all back to camp.'

Pulling out the fork he'd jabbed into the soil, he started off in the direction of a dozen or so other men, who were sitting near the cart drinking more water. As he walked, he spotted Balfor still working with at least a third of his plot yet to turn. His stomach sank into his boots as he watched the man struggling, and he faltered to a stop in front of his escort.

'What is it?' Sarayah demanded.

'Balfor's still digging.'

'Yes, and he will continue to do so until his work is complete,' she said flatly.

'I want to help him.'

The woman's dark eyes burned into his as if she'd never heard such an offer before. He imagined she thought it might be some kind of ruse. 'Why?' she asked, clearly apprehensive about giving him the go-ahead.

'Because it's my fault he's here and not pushing up daisies right now,' he pointed out, realising from the blank expression she wore that the reference was lost on her. 'If I hadn't interfered yesterday, he wouldn't be struggling with this today,' he clarified.

She appraised him again, then said, 'This is your first day...you're in no condition to continue.'

'I'm fine. Now, tomorrow, you may be right,' he admitted.

She stared at him, pondering his words, then, to his surprise, she agreed. 'All right. If you feel so strongly, you can help him – though why you feel pity for that man I don't understand. '

That didn't surprise him considering she didn't feel pity for any man. He trudged over to Balfor's section of the field and dug his fork in, driving himself on despite the pain his blisters and shredded back caused him. Balfor stopped, leaning on his fork with a look of sheer amazement. 'What are you doing, young man?' he asked between pants for breath.

'Helping,' Sheppard grunted, turning over his first forkful.

'Don't be ridiculous. You've already worked faster than the others. You need your rest.'

'Seems to me that I'm fitter than most of the rest of you, probably because I haven't been eating the crap you people have to put up with for very long. I still have some energy left.'

Balfor nodded silently, and began digging again himself. It soon became clear that he was at his limit for the day, though. He doubled over, trying to regain his breath as a couple more of the diggers made their way back to the group who had already finished.

Sheppard watched him for a few moments, then called over to Sarayah. 'Since I was supposed to be finished for the day, why don't you let Balfor go back in my place? That way, he might be fit to work again tomorrow.'

Sarayah frowned, eyeing the older man as if he was something foul she'd stepped in while feeding the cattle...not that he supposed she ever fed the cattle. That would be a man's job. Then, pursing her lips, she nodded. 'Agreed...but don't make a habit of telling me how best to manage my prisoners. You will remain here, pretty one. Old man, move your stinking carcass out of my sight.'

As he picked up his fork and stumbled away, Balfor patted the front of Sheppard's shoulder in silent thanks. He joined a small stream of other men now readying to return to the camp as they made their way to the massing prisoners.

'Alishia, take that group back with Mortenae.'

Muscles waved her acknowledgement of Sarayah's order, both she and another woman cajoling the men to their feet at gunpoint and setting them on their journey.

'Thought you were taking them back,' Sheppard muttered, continuing his work without looking at her despite the fact being there with her made him want to keep her in his sights.

'I was, but now I think my skills would be better applied here. I wouldn't like to leave a military commander in the hands of less experienced warriors.'

Her insistence on using the word "experience" again made his skin fell like it was creeping right of his bones, yet he showed no sign of picking up on the continued inference, hacking away as if he'd only just started to work. Digging was, after all, far easier than engaging in further conversation. As the temperature cooled, the work actually seemed less of a chore than it had earlier. He was in no rush to return to the camp – it was hardly five-star accommodation - but it was preferable to having her breathing down his neck the way she was here.

Gradually, the others left with the remaining guards, leaving the two of them alone, and just as the sun was beginning to set, he finished the final patch of soil. Straightening out the kinks in his aching back, he felt something jab against his shoulder. When he checked what it was, he found Sarayah offering him a flask. 'Here, drink. You've worked hard today. You should be proud of yourself.'

_There she goes with the good cop routine again, _he thought, taking a swig and almost coughing it back out when the familiar kick of alcohol hit the back of his tongue. It wasn't what he needed, but it did lubricate his throat enough to get him back to the encampment.

They walked the route back there in silence, the trip punctuated by the barrel of Sarayah's gun occasionally jabbing into his painful back, but he bit back the urge to tell her to stop. He didn't want any trouble; he was tired, sore, and dirty, and wanted nothing more than a drink, some food and some sleep. Rebellion could wait until he'd recharged his batteries.

When they arrived back at camp, Sarayah guided him toward a ramshackle wooden hut. Inside, two long tables with benches either side ran most of the length of the grubby, straw covered floor, and a table at the head of the room stood unattended, bearing what remained of the evening meal. The others had already eaten and moved on, a fact confirmed by the various crumbs and stains on the tabletop. His escort ordered him to sit, examining the contents of the various bowls and wicker baskets before selecting what she apparently considered suitable for him. She slid the plate toward him along the table, losing some of the contents on the way, then collected a pitcher of water and two cups, cocking one leg over the bench to straddle it as she watched him eat.

He watched her pour them both a drink, not happy to share such close proximity with her once again. Normally, having an attractive woman this keen to be near him would be quite flattering, but the fact she held a gun on him kind of took the shine off things. And, though a few inches taller than Teyla, she had a similar strong, well-toned physique, which meant she could quite conceivable kick-his butt if the time came to stand up to her. Not an easy thing for someone like him to admit. He'd hated the fact Teyla could whoop him with Bantos rods at first, but she had never tried to make him feel stupid, and as their friendship had grown, he'd learned to accept his strengths lay elsewhere. This woman wouldn't think twice about humiliating or hurting him, a fact that constantly buzzed at the back of his mind, bothering him like a persistent fly buzzing around the deep crap he'd landed himself in. But, since there wasn't much he could do about his situation right at this point, he decided he might as well eat.

Though the standard of the food was poor, there was plenty of it to fill the aching hole in his stomach. He tucked in with gusto, trying to ignore the fact her knees constantly rubbed against his thigh no matter how much he tried to move his leg away from her. She clearly knew what she was doing, and how much it annoyed him.

'You've done well today,' Sarayah reiterated, smiling in a manner reminiscent of a dog bearing its teeth in warning. 'I can see you'll prove an invaluable member of our stock.'

The word stock immediately raised his hackles, and it took all of his will power not to react to it. He stopped chewing and proceeded to swallow a lump of food far bigger than he normally did, taking a drink from his cup to help it along. 'You do realise this is a temporary arrangement, don't you?'

Her smile slipped away and a frown replaced it. 'What do you mean?'

'When my colleagues come back, I'll be out of here,' he replied, knowing that wasn't the truth...not unless they'd miraculously changed their minds about asking these women to rethink their social structure.

'_If_ they come back. As I recall, you told them you were staying when they gave you every opportunity to walk away with them. Perhaps they think you like it here,' she smirked, sipping her water.

'I don't think so,' he replied, toying with some berries, 'and they will be back. You can count on that.'

'Why did you stay?'

Sheppard had been asking himself the very same question since she'd thrown him back down into the underground cell yesterday. These men obviously needed help, but why was he taking this so personally? Something about this place had fired him up. Then it struck him, something he hadn't consciously realised before; Balfor, the old man with the tired eyes reminded him of Sumner, more specifically, his face held the same weary look Sumner's had worn just before he'd "asked" him to end his life. He wasn't just trying to free these slaves, he was trying to save a dead man. The injustice he'd witnessed on this planet was just an excuse to stay and reach for the impossible – closure for a matter that still weighed heavily on him even after all these months. How could he not have realised that before?

Of course, Sarayah didn't need to hear about his crisis of conscience. 'We used to have slavery back on the planet I come from a long time ago – people oppressed because of gender or colour. Then it was outlawed because we realised all people are equals. I guess I wanted to try to persuade you people of the same thing.'

'I see,' she said, nodding in the way a cat might swing its tale when annoyed. 'So you thought you'd give us the benefit of your wisdom, and we'd all suddenly see the light. Is that it?'

'I was hoping you might consider other ways of living,' he explained.

'You think yourself different to us. Better?' she charged, slamming her cup down on the tabletop and pressing in closed on him.

Sheppard refused to let her outburst rattle him as he felt the atmosphere cooling. Suddenly, he got the impression he wasn't her golden boy any more. 'No...I don't think that at all,' he said, picking up some of the berries and tossing them into his mouth. 'Like I said, I believe we're all equals.'

He could feel her eyes burning into him as he tried to keep it casual. He wasn't looking to start a fight; he wanted her to think about what he was saying, not kick against it. After a few moments, her temper seemed to settle again.

'You have no idea why we segregate our people the way we do,' she muttered, polishing the barrel of her gun on her sleeve. 'You know nothing about us.'

'So tell me,' he suggested.

She looked puzzled, as if confused by his interest. He suspected no one had ever asked her to explain herself before; the behaviours he'd witnessed seemed so ingrained in their culture that he imagined they'd been going on since far before she was born, and everyone in the society knew the historical reasons behind it.

After mulling over his request for a moment or two, she provided the answer he wanted. 'Many, many years ago, long before even my great, great grandmother was born, women were subjected to the treatment you see the men endure now – kept prisoner, worked, beaten and forced to bear children for them within this very encampment. But there was an uprising here. The women fought back, overwhelming their guards with sheer numbers, and, taken completely by surprise, many men in the village were killed. Now, we oppress them, and we control their numbers so they can never do that to us again.'

Sheppard blinked back at her, suddenly understanding why the women of Medulsa had crushed the men so utterly. This was survival of the fittest. But the words 'control their numbers' gave him a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about what it might actually mean. He had to know if he was right. 'How do you control numbers?'

'If too many male children are born, we kill them,' she said simply, not a hint of emotion registering in those hard eyes. This was a woman accustomed to killing, as he was, but what she did was far worse...wasn't it?

Battle hardened military man that he was, he still felt a lump rise in his throat at the implication. 'They're innocent children.'

'Who will grow to be men.' Seeing his repulsion, Sarayah just shrugged her muscular shoulders. 'It's a necessary evil.' She looked away, a sign their conversation was over.

With a shake of his head, Sheppard ate the rest of his meal as quickly as he could, keen to put some space between himself and his heartless captor, the food sinking as heavy as concrete in his gut. How could the death of children not move her? How could any woman do that to a child? Then, he stopped himself. He was stereotyping again. How could any sane person do that? But he knew what drove them to it. Fear. Fear made them do these heinous things to prevent the atrocities their ancestors had endured. So should he pity her or hate her?

One thing he knew was what she'd said had firmed up his resolve. Whether these women felt justified in their actions or not, he wouldn't be able to leave now until he knew things would be different.


	7. Chapter 7

Allanae watched the two women from Sheppard's tribe walk back into their village, disappointed that they had seen fit to return. She'd hoped they would accept their male's decision to remain, but she sensed the woman with the brown curls held more sway over the man than she had thus far shared with them.

'What is it you want now?' she demanded, positioning herself before then and folding her arms across herself.

'Perhaps there's somewhere more private we can have this discussion,' the one called Elizabeth suggested, following up her words with a tight smile.

Reluctantly, Allanae agreed to show them into her home. She gestured sharply with a flick of her hand toward two wooden chairs, their joints bound with twine, and then sat in one opposite them, looking from one face to another. 'What is it you wish to say that cannot be said in front of my people?'

'Since our last meeting, when certain "issues" in your society were brought to our attention, Teyla and I have been thinking that it might be wise for us to talk to you about your...treatment of Major Sheppard.'

Again, Allanae folded her arms over her chest, forming a barrier between herself and the visitors. 'I told you. His is being taught the correct way to behave in our society.'

'We understand that,' Teyla interjected. 'But he is not one of your society. He is one of ours. Where we come from, men and women are considered equals.'

'Then, you think the way we live on Medulsa is wrong?' Allanae asked, fixing them with an angry glare. This was a conversation she'd had a few times before, and she had little patience for it now.

'What we're trying to say is that Major Sheppard comes from a society where he is free to speak to whomever he wishes to speak to. He had no idea he was breaking your laws. And to him, yes, the way you live on Medulsa is wrong. Major Sheppard has spent most of his adult life fighting against what he sees as unjust regimes; he finds it hard to walk away from situations where he feels he can make a difference.'

Allanae listened to their words, but was not fooled. They were saying things that made her think they were on her side – that they could see her point of view – but she hadn't lived all her long years without learning to read what people actually meant when they spoke. They were trying to make it sound like this Sheppard was the only one who had a problem with her people, but she suspected that was untrue.

'So, you do not hold with his attitudes?'

'We don't believe we can dictate behaviours to other societies in the way some governments and military might, no,' Elizabeth assured her.

Allanae studied the lithe woman seated before her. She sensed power in her, intelligence, and an assurance that came with leadership. The other, the one called Teyla, had an odd calmness to her demeanour, something she found quite unnerving. They held their male captive; she should be angry and demanding, not purring kind words and smiling gently at her. This was some kind of ploy to convince her to release him, of that she was certain. All she did not yet understand was why they thought telling her she had upset the male's sensibilities would make her want to hand him back to them.

'So you do not come here with the intention of telling us to change our ways?' Allanae clarified, looking from one to the other of them again.

'I won't pretend that we agree with what you're doing with the men of your village, but it isn't up to us to change that, no,' Elizabeth reiterated.

Intrigued, Allanae asked, 'What is it about what we do that troubles you?'

Elizabeth and Teyla exchanged a glance, and the former dipped her head as she gave way to the other. 'Where we come from, all people are born free. No innocent is ever locked up and punished. Only those who commit crimes would be denied their liberty,' Teyla explained.

Allanae nodded her understanding as she listened. 'So it is much the same as how we have treated your male. He broke one of our fundamental laws and so has been punished.'

She watched as both women shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It seemed she'd said something they didn't agree with...again.

'It's not quite the same thing,' Elizabeth said, her tight smile returning. 'Where we come from, the rules are not quite so...stringent. People have to do something very bad before we would consider the need to remove them from normal life.'

Allanae sensed what they were doing now and it angered her. They were trying, little by little, to chip away at her beliefs – to make her doubt the certainties she had held all of her life. They planned to make her believe their ways were somehow better than her own, so she would change the rules herself. That way, they could say they had not forced anything to happen. Well, she would not acquiesce simply to appease their consciences.

'Dr Weir, your male, this Major Sheppard, broke a rule our people have followed and upheld for hundreds of years. Who are you to tell me that our beliefs are more trivial than yours?' she demanded.

'I'm not saying that at all,' Elizabeth sputtered. 'I was merely –'

'Oh, I think that is exactly what you were saying. Can I ask you both something?'

'Of course,' Elizabeth answered, looking to Teyla, who also nodded.

'You two both strike me as strong women. Are you both leaders of your people?'

Obviously uncomfortable with the question, it was with a definite reluctance that Elizabeth nodded. 'Yes. Yes we are.'

'So all people are not equal in your worlds, and neither are they free to do exactly as they wish.'

'We have rules...every society has to have guideline by which people must live ' Teyla began, but Allanae held up her hand to silence her.

'I have heard enough. You are both hypocrites. Our rules are in place for a specific reason, a reason you have not even sought to learn. You come here making your accusations without knowing the first thing of our history or the trials we women have suffered.' She rose to her feet. 'You are not welcome here anymore, Dr Weir and Teyla Emmagan. You should leave our village and take your self-important duplicity to those who are foolish enough not to examine it so deeply.'

The women hesitated as if they were about to try to persuade her to change her mind. She thrust her index finger toward the door, leaving them with no room for doubt that she was sincere in wishing them to leave.

Without another word, the women departed, leaving Allanae feeling angry and insulted. How dare they think they could fool her that way? There was only one thing that could change the way their people lived their lives, and since the Ancients were long gone from the galaxy, it was unlikely that would ever happen.

oooOOOooo

Sarayah stood at the head of the feeding hut, watching the new male as he ate. He seemed troubled, and she wondered if she had said too much in their evening discussion. She had never opened up to a man before; why did she want to make this one understand? Did it really matter that he thought less harshly of her?

He ate slowly, no doubt still getting used to the unusual gruel mixture most of the others had eaten for breakfast every day of their lives. She saw the slight downturn of his mouth as the flavour registered with his tastebuds, her own mouth twitching in amusement. He would get used to the flavour after a few days, and yes, he_ would_ still be here in a few days. She would make sure he was here for months, years even, at least until the novelty of his uniqueness wore off. She wanted him there until the fight left him, and she suspected this one had a lot of fight to lose. He'd been quiet and non-confrontational for the most part of yesterday, but she sensed it was only a matter of time before his true feeling made themselves known.

She couldn't help but feel impressed that he looked so well this morning. He'd almost bounced up the three steps into the hut compared to how the others had trudged in. Normally, after a lashing and a day of work, they would look exhausted and move rigidly, but this one had done extra work and still looked ready to begin again. He was clearly stronger than he looked, and determined to prove that point. She would enjoy breaking this handsome stallion, and it seemed it would take quite some time.

Another of the men caught her eye, staring fixedly at her. Talsan had shared her bed last night, as he often did, but her thoughts had not been of him. He had only been in the prison camp for two years, so was the youngest there, and he'd quickly realised she was the woman to please for an easy life. The boy's company was unsatisfactory at best, and last night, more than ever, she'd felt relieved when it was over. She found his capitulation noisome, preferring her partners drugged and confused, but rewarded him sometimes with better food and lighter work, just to ensure he was willing when they were short of the draught she needed to subdue men. It wasn't easy to get hold of it as it was only meant for use when procreation was necessary, so even intimacy with one such as him was better than none at all. Except now...now she needed someone else to fulfil those urges, and she knew in her heart that the boy would never come close to affecting her the way Sheppard had in his short time among them.

Feeling eyes on her, she spotted Alishia watching her from across the room. She acknowledged her colleague with a dip of the head and turned her attention to the remaining food left at that serving table.

There was plenty left if Sheppard wanted another portion, although she doubted from the way he was grimacing again that he would ask for any more.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard ate quietly, still mulling over the revelations of his conversation with Sarayah. He'd found it hard to sleep, partly due to the strange, uncomfortable and rather pungent surroundings of the dormitory hut, but also because he couldn't get the thought of babies being slaughtered out of his head. He hadn't asked how they were killed, he didn't want to know, but his imagination had spent most of the night filling in the details in some pretty disturbing ways. Perhaps knowing the truth would have made it easier to move past and focus on the task of solving the problem.

When he'd woken that morning, every muscle in his body had throbbed like a bitch, but since lying on his blanket wasn't making him feel any better, he'd done some careful stretches to help them loosen up and was now feeling a little better. Unlike the other men, he'd moved lightly on his feet between the dormitory and dining hut rather than adopting their heavy-legged plod. He wasn't that beat down yet. He still had hope to keep him going.

Eventually, after thinking things over again, he spoke to Balfor, who was sitting beside him. 'I didn't realise the women culled you to control your numbers.'

Balfor froze for a moment, clearly surprised to hear him speak of it. 'Yes, they do...although I think they will allow more boys to survive for a while since our numbers are dwindling.'

Sheppard nodded, grimacing as he swallowed another spoonful of the cold, lumpy cereal. 'Yeah, you told me about the sickness.'

'The stricken men are housed in a hut on the far side of the camp. The women think keeping them separate from the rest of us will make us safe.'

Sheppard huffed out a quiet laugh. 'That all depends on what type of sickness it is, and whether it's airborne or not.' The blank expression his comments met with told him this man, maybe everyone in the village, had little understanding of diseases, or how to treat them. 'Where I come from, we have doctors who could probably treat that sickness. Trouble is, I doubt they'd be allowed to come here after what's happened to me.'

'The women would not trust them anyway. We must simply hope the sickness spares us.'

A few moments passed in silence, then John asked, 'Is it true that the women of this village used to be slaves to the men?'

Again, Balfor looked startled that he knew so much. 'Who has told you all of these things?' he asked.

'Sarayah chatted with me last night when I got back from digging the field.'

An odd expression crept onto the older man's face, something caught between horror and pity. 'She seems to have taken quite an interest in you. I don't believe she has ever told an outside man about our history before.'

'Well, I'm the new guy. Perhaps she felt like purging her conscience.'

Balfor blinked at him. 'Since she has none that is most unlikely. You would be wise not to encourage her attentions. She has a tendency to lure men in with kindness, then once they feel safe, she turns on them like a feral cat. '

'Are we talking a small feral cat?' Sheppard asked hopefully, figuring he could cope with a few scratches.

'Our feral cats are bigger than a man.'

Being disembowelled wasn't really something he aspired to. He supposed maybe he should tread a little more carefully with her. 'Well, it takes a lot more than that to scare me,' he said, feigning bravado as he cast a glance her way. She was watching, just as she always was, a slight smile curling her lips.

'I'm sure she already has your measure,' the old man said, sipping at his water. 'She has had many years of practice in assessing men's breaking points. Right now, she is being nice to you, but it would be a mistake to assume it will always be this way. If you are not willing to give her what she wants, she will take it regardless.'

Sheppard dragged his eyes away from his captor, his guts churning over as Balfor's warning confirmed his own fears. Sarayah was favouring him, showing attention he didn't want. Okay, this wasn't the first time he'd had to reject unwanted attentions. How hard could it be? Still, there were other things he wanted to know, like where she'd got her gun.

'Do your people trade with the Genii?' he asked.

Balfor shrugged. 'We aren't party to any details of whom they strike their trade deals with. Why do you ask?'

'Because the gun she's carrying is Genii.'

'Ahh, well that weapon comes from Sarndon, over there.' Balfor pointed to a huge bear of a man sitting with his back to them. 'I seem to recall him mentioning something about being Genii when he first came here, but my memory is a little dull these days. These Genii, they are friends of yours?'

'No...definitely not. They ambushed my home and tried to take it over. I subdued the threat and shot their leader, some guy named Kolya. He was trying to kidnap one of my colleagues, so I had to stop him.'

The brute of a man from the other table suddenly turned and glared at Sheppard.

Balfor leaned a little closer to John. 'Sarndon has unusually acute hearing, I'm afraid,' he hissed, his warning, as always, too late.

The major froze. 'Now you tell me!'

He sensed the man was about to launch for him before even one of his huge muscles quivered. But Sheppard wasn't quick enough. Monobrow threw himself across the table and took Sheppard with him before he could manoeuvre his legs out from under it. The weight of the man landing on top of him knocked the wind from his lungs, and the punch the Genii delivered to his face set free a warm rush from his nose.

'You shot Kolya, you bastard?' the man growled, and Sheppard realised there was little point in denying what he'd said.

'Yeah, I did. When people invade my territory, they get what's comin' to them,' he grunted, trying to wrestle the hulk off him so he could regain his breath.

'That man was my mentor – the greatest Genii to ever live,' Monobrow ground out, spitting in Sheppard's face. 'He was like a father to me.'

'Yeah, I can tell; you inherited his build.' Sheppard was strong, but his wiry frame was no match for the sheer weight of this guy. And no one was coming to his aid.

Somehow managing to get a leg curled under the bulk of his attacker, Sheppard kicked him off. The man mountain's back slammed into the table, tipping it over, but he was soon rising again, his anger driving him on. Sheppard also jumped to his feet, catching hold of Monobrow's arm and using the man's momentum to lever him over his shoulder and fling him to the ground, where he rolled him onto his face and twisted his arm up high behind his back.

'I have no argument with you, buddy. I suggest you back off while you still have some dignity.'

Though he bucked a few times to try and throw the major clear, the Genii eventually realised the pain far outweighed his efforts. He nodded his agreement, though he looked far from please about it. Sheppard stood and gave him room to get to his feet, muscles tensed and ready to spring him into action again if necessary. But the man simply sloped away and resumed his seat at the other table, shoulders hunched in anger as he finished off his meal.

Sheppard looked around at the startled faces of the men whose breakfast he'd disrupted. Thankfully, they had all managed to eat most of their meal before the attack, so not much had gone to waste.

He mumbled his apologies, just as his adrenaline levels dropped and the pain of his injuries began to register. Blood still ran from his nose, making him wonder if it might be broken. There had been a fair bit of force behind that punch. In addition, the lacerations on his back had pulled open again when he'd fallen, and then again when shifting the huge man's weight. He wished he'd thought of that before deciding the shoulder throw was his best move to employ.

A slap on the back almost made him whimper – almost, but he fought it down. Sarayah grinned like a Cheshire Cat behind him. 'Well fought, pretty one. I was beginning to worry that your tales of military command were merely an exaggeration to impress me.'

He grunted, holding the back of his hand to his nose to stem the flow of blood as it began to run into his mouth.

'Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up before work begins.'

She marched him out across the compound at gunpoint, Genii gunpoint ironically, and steered him into a smaller hut. Inside was more comfortable than the other buildings he'd had the pleasure, or rather displeasure, of visiting. There was an actual bed, albeit a roughly crafted bedstead with dishevelled, slightly tatty and stained bedclothes. He supposed this might be her quarters; she was the leader of this rough band of warrior women, so it made sense that she would want a room of her own. There was a second door in the adjacent wall on his left. It was closed, concealing what lay beyond it, but he had noticed a small extension to the side of the building as she led him to it and it obviously opened onto that.

His eyes wandered to a crate set on its end and acting as a nightstand. Two cups sat on top of it. Two cups suggested two people. The wide bed with its rumpled sheets suddenly seemed less innocent than they had a moment ago. In an odd way that made him feel a little better. Apparently, this woman wasn't solely interested in him, after all.

Setting the cups aside, Sarayah lifted the box and set it in the middle of the floor, then collected a stool from the corner and set it next to it. 'Sit,' she ordered, and after a moment of hesitation while he considered making a bolt for the door, he complied.

Once he was settled, she poured a bowl of water and set it on the stand in front of him. Then, she damped a cloth and handed it to him. 'Here. I assume it's not the first bloodied nose you've suffered. You know what to do.'

Sheppard cleaned his face, leaning forward and pinching his nose, watching the drips of bright crimson blood falling into the water and swirling around as they began to dilute. Disturbingly, he felt his shirt being pushed up to his shoulders, and Sarayah's fingers drifting over the torn skin of his back.

'What're you doing?' he demanded, tensing at her touch.

'Your wounds need attention or they will become infected,' she told him.

'As long as that's all you're doing,' he muttered.

She pushed her hands up to his shoulders, gripping them and leaning in to tell him, 'Then, you'd better hope that's all I choose to do, because _you_ have no say in the matter.' Her fingers caressed his collarbones as she spoke, drawing his follicles to nauseated attention.

He bore it silently for as long as he could, then growled, 'Okay, I get the message.'

'Good,' she barked, and he could feel her triumphant smirk as she withdrew the threatening contact. Instead, she smeared that god-awful lotion over his injuries, leaving his skin stinging and slick beneath his shirt as she let it drop down again. But it did deaden the pain somewhat, which was a surprise and welcome relief.

'You fought well against such a strong opponent,' she said as she came to stand in front of him, her eyes glistening with excitement at the memory.

'The bigger they are, the harder they fall,' he said, matter-of-fact, dabbing at his nose to see if the flow had stopped. The bridge stung as he wiped it, suggesting the skin had split. Not surprising considering how hard the Sarndon had hit him.

'Even so, most men would have backed down from the confrontation. Sarndon is feared amongst the others. I'll make sure he knows his behaviour toward you was unacceptable.'

'Don't bother. I don't think he'll trouble me again.'

'I will decide how to deal with this,' she snapped, a sharp reminder that the issue of discipline was not up for negotiation as far as she was concerned.

The drips began to slow and then stop; only the cut on the bridge continued a slow ooze. Sheppard sat back and wiped his face again, holding the cloth to his nose to collect the last dregs of the bleed. Once he was sure it had stopped, he dropped the stained cloth back into the scarlet water.

'Now you are done, we can put you to work.'

'More digging?' he asked, rubbing his thumbs across the blisters and callous' on his tender palms.

She shook he head. 'Not today. I have another task in mind for you. That way, I get to keep a closer eye on you.'

_Oh, joy! _he thought, rising as she twitched her gun toward the door.

She led him out to the gate, beyond the steep walls, and into a wooded area that lay not too far from the camp. An axe, the blade rusty and the handle stained with someone else's blood, leaned against a tree, and a few chewed up stumps standing around the clearing told him what she had in mind.

'We need wood for the cooking fires and to keep the guards' quarters warm on colder nights. This one should supply more than enough for the time being.'

She slapped her hand against the bark of a tree with a girth of at least four feet. Sheppard looked up at it, feeling his shoulders slump at the thought of what his hands and back would feel like by the end of this day. She stepped away from the tree, gesturing toward the axe with her gun.

With a sigh, he picked it up, took up stance, and swung the axe as if he were swinging a golf club on one of the piers at Atlantis. The reverberations that shuddered up his arms as the axe head made sudden contact with the steel-hard bark reminded him that this would be nothing like that kind of fun. The four feet trunk might as well have been twenty feet round for all the impression he'd made on it. He had the distinct feeling this was going to be another long, hard day in the crazy world of Medulsa.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney was waiting at the 'gate when Elizabeth and Teyla stepped back through.

'No Sheppard?' he asked, shock draining the colour from his cheeks and leaving his face slack. 'What were you doing over there, comparing knitting patterns? You said you would bring him back this time!'

'It's not going to be as simple as we'd hoped, Rodney,' Elizabeth said firmly. 'These people are very firmly entrenched in their ways. It's like asking you to do your job without computers.'

'Not really,' he whined. 'I don't go around humiliating people and forcing them to do what I say because of my work.'

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, reminding him that he wasn't exactly skilled when it came to interacting with his science team, in fact, the words 'bully' and 'egomaniac' had been muttered in his vicinity on many an occasion, and those were just the times she was aware of.

'Let's take this to my office, Rodney,' Elizabeth suggested, desperate for a cup of coffee, but realising she wasn't going to get any peace until she'd filled the scientist in on all the details.

The sight of her office and all the things she had gathered in it helped to ease her frayed nerves as she seated herself behind her desk and waited for Teyla and Rodney to make themselves comfortable. Teyla looked as tired and distressed as she felt, but forced on a smile when she saw Elizabeth's eyes on her, just as she always did.

Rodney sat on the edge of his seat, leaning toward her as if that slight reduction in distance between them would carry the information he required to him a little quicker. 'So? What happened out there?' he demanded, his manner just as brusque as she'd anticipated it would be.

Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her furrowed brow. 'They aren't willing to listen to any suggestions that their social structure is wrong. I can't sway them.'

His mouth dropped open in amazement. 'What do you mean, you can't sway them? You could sell snow to the Eskimos; how can you not persuade these people that slavery is wrong?'

'Rodney, do you have any idea how long it took the people of our planet to decide that slavery was wrong? It didn't exactly happen overnight,' she pointed out.

'So what now?' he asked. 'We start an anti-slavery movement and hope we make them see sense before Sheppard dies of old age?'

'Of course not!' she snapped, annoyed by her own lack of patience with him. She needed to think this situation through, and Rodney wasn't exactly helpful in this kind of crisis. If there wasn't some kind of scientific way of solving a problem, he became panicked, edgy, like an addict without his fix. 'Now if you have any constructive suggestions, Rodney, I'm all ears. Otherwise...'

'We should go in there in a cloaked jumper and take him back. We can take them by surprise and maybe snatch that ZedPM while we're there.'

'That's a very...military suggestion,' Elizabeth said, surprised.

'I'd say this is becoming a military situation, wouldn't you?' Rodney sniped back.

Elizabeth glanced at Teyla, who remained silent, but from her expression was beginning to waver in her attitude. 'We're not there yet,' she stated firmly, leaving neither of them in any doubt about her feelings on the subject. 'I'm pretty sure Sheppard doesn't want anyone to get hurt or possibly even die because of an ill-advised decision he made.'

'Well...that wasn't my intention, either,' Rodney whined defensively.

'I know that, Rodney, but this kind of operation could lead to unforeseen complications. I would prefer to exhaust all other options before sending in troops. It was Sheppard's decision to remain in the village, after all.'

'So, did you see him? Is he okay?'

Teyla shook her head. 'The village elder took offence to our suggestions of change before we had an opportunity to meet with him.'

'So we don't even know if they've been looking after him,' Rodney shouted, standing up and pacing. 'You know what Sheppard's like when people try to push him round. God knows what they've done to him by now. How can we just sit here sipping coffee and discussing how to persuade the ignorant masses to see our point of view? We have to act now.'

'Actually, Rodney. I haven't had a drink in six hours,' Elizabeth said, raising her voice so she could be heard over him. 'And I am not convinced those women _are _ignorant. Allanae said something that makes me think there's a sound reason for the way they treat their men, at least in their opinion. This isn't done through ignorance...there's something more to it.'

'I suspect the same, Dr Weir. I believe that somewhere in their history, those women have been wronged,' Teyla agreed.

'Oh fine. Turn this into a women's lib conference, why don't you?' Rodney spat, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 'In case you've forgotten, it's the men of that planet who are being mistreated right now, along with one of our own. I don't care what they went through in the past, it doesn't make what they're doing now right.'

'No, it doesn't,' Elizabeth agreed. 'And I will take your opinions under advisement. But if there's any way I can get Sheppard back without starting a war, that's the way I'd prefer to go.'

'Fine,' the scientist snapped. 'When you conjure up that minor miracle, let me know!' He stormed from the room, and Elizabeth considered calling him back and picking him up on his attitude, but then thought better of it. She was tired having not slept well for the past few nights; there was a chance she could say something she might regret, and no doubt Rodney wasn't thinking clearly either.

She leaned her elbows on her desk and rubbed her face, finally clasping her fingers together and resting her chin on them. 'Do you think I'm treating them too gently, Teyla?' she asked.

The Athosian shrugged her slim shoulders. 'It is difficult to say. I do not know much of these people. Without such knowledge, it is hard to assess the best way to handle them.'

'I want to give them the benefit of the doubt, but part of me thinks some of them enjoy what they do, especially that Sarayah woman.'

'I agree. She seemed particularly keen to keep the major with them. I suspect there is more to their behaviour than merely wishing to show him the error of his ways.'

'What do you mean?' Elizabeth asked, arching an eyebrow.

'I am not sure,' Teyla said, averting her gaze. It seemed clear to Elizabeth that she did know what she meant, but was reluctant to voice her thoughts.

'Let's go get ourselves some lunch,' Elizabeth suggested. Hopefully, in the more relaxed setting of the mess hall, she would be able to persuade Teyla to share her thoughts.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard's muscles ached more than they had ever ached before, and he was used to hard work. He was fit; he ran every day, did a little weight training, sparred with Teyla, but he'd never felt as spent as he did right now. The anaesthetic properties of the ointment had worn off hours ago, leaving every swing of that axe utter agony. He knew the injuries were sapping his strength more quickly than normal, but even without them he doubted he could have carried on much longer. He stopped a moment, resting the axe-head on the floor and propping himself up on the handle.

'Did I say you could stop?' Sarayah called from behind him.

Pissed that she would question him for resting after sitting on her backside watching him all morning, Sheppard couldn't help biting back. 'No, but you didn't say I couldn't, either.'

The sun was cripplingly hot again. Losing the black T-shirt would have helped to cool him down, but there was no way he was removing it with Sarayah so close by. He'd made it past the halfway mark on the trunk, but that meant there were hours more swinging left to do. He doubted he would finish it in one day in his current state and wondered if that meant he would earn more punishment.

A nudge against his arm alerted him to the fact that Sarayah was offering him her flask again. He declined, knowing the alcohol would only leave him feeling more tired and dehydrated, something he could do without as he was barely standing anyway. Shrugging her indifference, she took a deep drink from it herself, staying by his side and staring up at him in a way he chose not to acknowledge.

'You should stop for a while. We can return to my quarters and relax while you take refreshment, then return here to finish the job,' she suggested, her voice low and worryingly breathy as she ran the side of her finger up his arm.

'If I stop now, I'll never be able to get going again,' Sheppard quipped, suppressing a shudder while picking the axe up again.

She caught his arm, preventing him from raising it. 'I can find someone else to finish this,' she suggested, her eyes smouldering as they gazed into his.

He tried not to let his horror register in his expression, not quite sure if he managed it or not. He wanted to say no, to tell her to get the hell away from him, but the words stuck as his eyes fell on her gun, still clutched in her hand. A brief thought of swinging the axe at her flashed through his mind, swinging it and making a break for freedom, but he reconsidered when he thought about the other men he would leave behind. All his actions would prove to the women of the village was that they were right to fear men after all.

Licking his dry lips, he tugged his arm free of her grip. 'I doubt anyone else would have the energy needed to finish this by now. I should get back to it,' he replied, hoping she would step back and give him some room to swing his axe.

She didn't. A moment later, he felt the barrel of her gun press against his temple. 'Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I wasn't asking; I was telling,' she growled, dispensing of the niceties that had got her nowhere with him.

Through the canopy of trees, the sound of the gate operating carried to them both. Sarayah turned her head in the direction of the sound, but didn't lower her weapon. 'I hope your friends aren't foolish enough to try taking you back by force. One trip to our planet is as much as we will accommodate in one day,' she said as she listened to the dialling sequence.

'What? They came back today?' Sheppard's heart skipped a little at the news. If that was the case, Elizabeth wasn't as annoyed with him as he'd thought. She was still trying to get him out.

'Yes. Early, too. It did them no good, of course. I received word that Allanae sent them away with their tails between their legs. Seems they want us to change our ways, release you men to live among us like equals. Foolish talk!'

Perhaps they were on their way back. Weir wouldn't be too pleased about being shut out like that, not while he was still held prisoner. Maybe they were planning to take more decisive action to extract him, and right at this moment, considering what this woman was about to do with him, he figured he might be tempted to go with them and fight the good fight from the relative safety Atlantis where no one was waiting to jump his bones. He subconsciously heard the final chevron engage, replying as the wormhole established itself. 'You know, you could try it. That way, you might not have to drag men back to your room at gunp –'

He stopped, another noise catching his attention, the high-pitched whine of an engine – a Wraith engine. Ducking instinctively as it swept overhead, he watched in horror through the broken canopy of leaves as the craft turned and headed back toward the encampment.

'What is that?' Sarayah breathed, lowering her gun in surprise.

'The Wraith,' he answered.

Spotting the knife she kept tucked in her belt, he snatched it while she was distracted and began to hightail it back to the camp. She screamed out for him to stop, to stay under cover, but he didn't listen. There were people in that camp, and in the fields surrounding it. He didn't know what he would do, but he had to do something.

As he ran out of the woods, he could hear the screaming of the men in the fields, the craft passing over them and sweeping some up as they ran for their lives. There was only one craft so this wasn't a culling, more like sampling the goods. To his left, he saw movement, spotting a Wraith phantom wafting towards him. They were on the ground. His heartbeat quickened, but he knew better than to allow it to distract him. That was one of the first things Teyla had taught him about dealing with the Wraith, so he wasn't about to fall for their tricks.

He could see the gates of the compound standing open as he neared it, offering some refuge to the prisoners. His military mind took over, and he yelled to men and women alike, 'Take up defensible positions inside the buildings. Fire everything you have at them!'

Everyone was racing for cover now. He caught sight of Balfor struggling to keep up the pace as everyone else sped away from him. Sheppard sprinted over to him, catching his arm and dragging him toward their dormitory hut almost too fast for the older man's legs to keep up with. Two of the guards had headed in there already, along with a couple of the faster men, Sarndon included, and were now pushing the door shut, keeping out any prisoners who hadn't kept up with them. Sheppard ran into the door, his sheer momentum helping him to shoulder it open before they could barricade it closed against the rest of the men looking for shelter there. He shoved Balfor inside and pulled the door shut behind him, ordering them to block the door and take aim.

As he hurried back down the steps five Wraith beamed down into the yard, four grunts and a black clad commander, each heading for a separate building. He slid down the side of the dormitory hut, concealing himself from sight as he watched them disperse. Phantoms darted all around the buildings, but he stayed focused on the solid Wraiths, the ones who posed the real threat. He couldn't tackle them all, so he had to hope the armed female guards could put enough bullets into them to bring them down before they could drag them into the open for harvesting by the dart.

The firing began, and he felt a burning frustration that he didn't have his P-90 to take them down with. There were only five; if he had his gun...

Rapid fire split the air, and he saw Sarayah emerge from her quarters with his weapon. _Damn it! _If he'd known he was that close to it earlier, he might have been tempted to knock her out, and then frighten some sense into the lot of them. Still, at least she'd had the sense to grab it now.

One Wraith was already out of her range and heading to a hut in a far corner of the compound. _The sick men._ Sheppard suddenly remembered his conversation with Balfor. The sick had been herded into a hut and left to die away from the others. No one would be defending them.

He sprinted out across the yard, covering the ground as quickly as he could while hoping Sarayah didn't cut his legs from under him with her erratic firing. He saw the Wraith falter as he reached the locked door, then he simply ripped it off its hinges, tossing it aside. Sheppard continued to make up the ground, forcing his tired legs on. Those people needed his help; he couldn't let fatigue slow him now.

He reached the shattered doorframe just in time to witness the Wraith slam his hand into the chest of one of the bedridden inmates. But, seconds later, it recoiled, looking as if whatever it had tasted there had made it nauseous. It threw Sheppard for a moment; he'd seen a similar reaction to that before. Then, he realised the creature had turned toward him, and was now advancing. Having nothing to lose, he launched himself at the Wraith, piercing its feeding hand with the knife and driving the monster back until it collided with the wooden wall of the hut, the blade pinning its hand there. Unfortunately, that still left it with one hand free, plenty enough to still do damage. It thrust its palm into his chest, sending him flying onto his back on the floor. Much as the blow hurt, Sheppard bounced straight back onto his feet, rushing back toward him. Before the gnashing, hissing beast could free itself, he swung his axe, severing the offending hand and leaving the creature unable to feed. He had no idea if the creature could eventually grow the hand back, but it wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Sheppard snatched the knife back, shaking the severed hand free of the blade and whirling, ready to defend himself against further attack.

The Wraith howled in protest as it sank to its knees, green blood oozing from its wounds. It wailed, that is, until his cry was cut short by a blast of rapid fire that sent Sheppard ducking for cover, too. Splinters of wood bounced off him as he balled up on the floor, still clutching his weapons, waiting for the clamour to finish. Once it had, he slowly lifted his head to assess the damage. Apart from a few splinters sticking in his forearms and minor cuts he appeared to be in one piece, unlike the Wraith, whose blood and guts lay spread across the wall and floor around him.

He slowly uncurled and stood up again, holding his bruised chest, staring at the scene of devastation with macabre fascination. Then the smell hit him. He couldn't place it for a moment, but then he realised what it was. It was the stench of death. Not a recent death, though. This was death after time and nature had taken their course. This was decay – decomposition – abandonment.

'What the hell?' he gasped, only now spotting that many of the people in the beds were long since dead, bodies rotting in their blankets in the blistering heat of the sun magnified within those four walls. Others were close to death, including the one the Wraith had backed away from. For a moment, Sheppard had wondered if he, too, was dead, and that was why the Wraith had left him alone, but no, he was still breathing and groaning for help.

'You can't just lock people away here like this. What if some of them recover, but die of dehydration and starvation? How would you ever know?'

'Enough,' she yelled, levelling his P-90 at him. 'I don't need to hear advice from you on how to deal with this.'

'Well, clearly you do because this...this is inhumane. No one should be forced to endure these conditions, even if there is no hope of survival!'

He saw the blue touch-paper ignite in her eyes and realised he'd once again pushed too hard. She cracked him on the temple with the butt of the gun she carried, _his _gun, knocking him momentarily dizzy. He slumped to his knees, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

'I have heard enough of your insolence. Now, GET OUT!' Sarayah ordered, catching the back of his neck and throwing him out of the door.


	9. Chapter 9

Sheppard fell down the three steps from the hut to the floor, then got back onto his feet as quickly as he could. Again, with the adrenaline rush over, his injuries began to nag. His chest ached, his shoulder throbbed, and a trickle of blood ran down in front of his ear from the blow she'd just delivered. Considering the fact he'd just helped save their asses, he thought he deserved better treatment. Apparently, she didn't share his view. Sarayah kept prodding and poking him around until he was at what she considered a safe distance from the infested hut, where she stopped him and told him to face her.

'Drop your weapons,' she ordered, aiming his gun at him.

He set his jaw and thought about refusing, then threw the axe and knife to the dusty ground. The encampment was deathly quiet, enabling them to hear the 'gate firing up as the dart howled its way through it. The attack was over. They were safe...for now.

'Get on your knees,' Sarayah growled, reclaiming the knife and kicking the axe out of his reach.

Sheppard complied, and the next thing he knew, she was tugging a pair of cuffs from the back of her belt and securing them on him. 'I just helped to save you people,' he protested.

'I ordered you to stay put and take cover. You put both our lives at risk.'

'You didn't have to follow me,' he pointed out.

'You're my charge. It's my responsibility to keep you in my sight.'

'Even if it costs you your life?' he snorted.

Once the cuffs were on she rounded him and gave him a brutal backhand, grunting something about being tired of his arguments. He suspected the attack had her more rattled than she wanted to admit. With the sting still hot on his cheekbone, and the taste of fresh blood in his mouth, he pressed her further.

'Why were those men locked in that hut? Is that how you treat your sick? No food, no water, no medicine, you just lock them up and cook them until they die?'

'It's not your concern,' she told him.

'It is when I know there are people back where I come from who could maybe help. And did you see how that Wraith reacted to the man in the first bed? It backed away from him as if he tasted bad. I think that sickness might make humans unpalatable to them. We could use that – come up with some kind of treatment that might keep the Wraith at bay...'

'Why would we need such a thing when we have a man who can fight the Wraith the way you did?'

He sputtered out a laugh. 'Flattering as your confidence in me is, that was just a scout ship. When they report back to their queen that there are humans here capable of mounting a defence, they'll return with their Hive ship and not one person will be left alive. You need to move to a safe planet. You have a day or two, maybe a little longer if you're lucky, but that ship will come, and you _will _be culled. I can help you relocate...if you reconsider the way you treat your men.'

Now it was Sarayah's turn to laugh. Around them, people were beginning to emerge from the other huts, men dragging out the bodies of the dead Wraith under supervision from their gun-toting guards. He supposed the one he and Sarayah had just downed would be left festering with the other inhabitants of that house-sized coffin.

'You can't hold us to ransom, Sheppard. We will not bow to your supposedly superior knowledge of such things. This is just trickery.'

'No, it isn't! I swear. Look, a few months ago we tried the same sort of thing with the inhabitants of a planet called Hoff. They'd been working on a vaccine against Wraith feedings for centuries, the Wraith continually wiping out each generation before they could make significant breakthroughs. Except a few months ago, with our help, they finally came up with something that seemed effective. But that was a chemically created vaccine; they rushed ahead without proper tests and it went wrong. This is different. This is some kind of natural repellent. If we could find a way of administering this virus to people without it making them sick...'

'I've heard enough!' she shouted, stopping him in mid-flow. 'Your idea didn't work before, and it won't work now.'

Pressing his lips together to stop himself from reacting in a way he knew he would regret, Sheppard counted to ten, then said, 'Perhaps I should speak to Allanae about this. She _is _your superior, after all.'

She grabbed his shirtfront, pushing his P-90 up under his chin. He flinched, half expecting it to go off by mistake through her lack of experience in its use. 'Allanae is an old and foolish woman. Your actions already persuaded her to spare Balfor's life. I think it would be very foolish to allow you to influence her any further.'

'If what I'm suggesting works, you would be helping to save not only yourselves, but possibly millions of humans across this galaxy and others,' he urged, hoping to sway her.

This time she wasn't so gentle in her disapproval. She punched him, knocking him dizzy. 'The matter is closed.'

'Well, if you put it like that...' he muttered, steadying himself and flexing his jaw to test it still worked.

She pulled him to his feet and dragged him away, away from the yard and away from the others. 'Alishia, with me. We were exposed,' she barked, tugging him faster along with her. He saw the others watching, most still clearly in shock, but Balfor's expression was one more resembling sympathy. What exactly did he think she had in mind for him?

Sarayah bundled him into her hut, pushing him to the floor. 'Wait there,' she demanded, opening the second door he'd seen earlier. She stuck her head into the small room enclosed beyond it. 'I'll tell you when we're ready to begin.'

Sheppard supposed that instruction was for Alishia, who hadn't followed them into the room, but had stayed outside somewhere. So, ready for what?

Undoing his cuffs, she stood back and levelled her weapon at him. 'Take off your clothes,' she ordered, the exact words he'd hoped she wouldn't speak.

'I don't think so.'

'You've been exposed to the sickness. You need to remove your clothes and get clean.'

He squinted at her. Getting clean didn't sound so bad. He felt filthy, bloodied, and greasy with ointment and sweat. A wash would be a welcome relief from it all. As long as that was all she had in mind...

Realising refusal wasn't really an option, he pulled off his T-shirt, wincing as the action pulled at all the dried scabs forming over his flogged back. He dreaded the itchy phase of the healing process; there was no way he was going to be able to reach them all.

Next, he unlaced and slipped off his boots, shoving his socks inside them. They were well past their best and he was glad to be out of them, flexing his feet, which hadn't seen daylight let alone soap and water for days. As he unbuckled his belt and slipped his trousers down, Sarayah watched him silently, eyes roaming over his bruised and lacerated body. Trousers off, he straightened up and waited for her to tell him what to do next. Her eyes flicked down to his boxers, then back up to meet his gaze.

He swallowed hard. It didn't matter what she threatened him with, he was not parting company with his underwear while he was still conscious.

After a pause, she relented, still not speaking, just catching hold of his elbow so hard her nails dug into his skin. She pushed him into the tiny box room, his shoulder slamming into wall on the opposite side and reminding him how much he'd hurt it forcing the dormitory door. There wasn't much room around him even when he stood up straight again. He looked up, spotting Muscles sitting up on a ledge peering down at him, a gun aimed at his head. There was some kind of shallow perforated bowl suspended on ropes over the open topped room, and Muscles appeared to be holding a wooden bucket in her free hand, while sitting next to a water butt. So this was a shower...of sorts. Unfortunately, if that was rainwater she was about to pour on him it would be...

_COLD!_

The shock of the water hitting his hot skin shrivelled just about everything. Good thing he'd stood fast on the boxers. Another bucketful poured through, raising gooseflesh all over his body. Not that he hadn't showered in a makeshift, freezing cold shower before, but it had been a while, and he'd forgotten just how much he hated it. He guessed his posting on Atlantis had somewhat spoiled him with its luxurious facilities. As he scraped the water from his eyes, he saw to his horror that Sarayah was now also stripping. _No...no way._ There wasn't enough room for the two of them. That meant physical contact. This was definitely not good.

A handmade bar of soap slapped him in the stomach, waking him from his catatonic panic. Okay, maybe this was still about getting washed after all, he supposed, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

He lathered up his arms, feeling the annoying stabs of splinters he would have to pull out later, then soaped up everything else as far as he could reach. The smell of something not dissimilar to nettles was almost overwhelming as he washed. He vaguely remembered something about them having antiseptic qualities, so he supposed it made sense to use them when trying to rid themselves of the virus.

Feeling smooth skin slide against his, he forced himself tight against the wall. This whole not encouraging Sarayah business was turning out to be harder than he'd thought. She was now dressed in only a slip he figured she usually wore under her tunic. It covered everything he had no desire to see, but soon became almost transparent under another flush of water from Alishia sitting above them. He hoped his own attire was more forgiving.

She fumbled the soap from his hands, pressing against him to reach it. He let it go, keeping his eyes to the wall. She soaped him up all over again, rubbing hard on his bruises and welts, unconcerned by the hisses and flinches he gave in involuntary response. Her hands roamed all over his body, the excuse of decontamination giving her some supposed permission to touch him in places best left unmentioned. Then, she pressed her body against his again, almost knocking him off balance as she reached for something behind him. His heart sank when he saw the course bristle brush she'd unhooked from the wall behind him. His shower was about to get worse.

She started with his arms. He gritted his teeth as those splinters jabbed further into his nerves with every scrub. She moved on to his chest and then lower, so harsh with her attempts at cleansing that she actually drew blood as the sharp bristles gouged into his skin. He doubted his underwear had ever been so clean, or so close to tearing. His legs suffered similar treatment, as did his face and hair. Although it hurt, he considered himself fortunate to still have his eyes when she'd finished. When she signalled for him to turn around he hesitated, but the flash of anger that crossed her expression told him refusal wasn't an option.

He turned and she started on his back, his knees buckling as she scraped across his damaged skin. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the back wall as he swore under his breath. He'd hoped she'd be gentler on his still raw injuries, but she clearly meant to be just as thorough on every inch of his body.

'You should have stayed in the woods as I told you to,' she grunted in response to his groans. 'You have only yourself to blame for this.'

Eventually, the process was over, and he heard the same scrubbing sound of the bristles without feeling the associated pain. He looked over his shoulder to see her subjecting herself to the exact same treatment, scrubbing until the surface of her olive skin looked raw and even bled in places. She didn't show a flicker of discomfort, she was so engrossed in the importance of the task.

The lack of space meant she continually bumped and brushed against him as she worked, her flesh pressing against his, her body invading his personal space. This was worse than torture. Pain he could handle...within reason, and facing the enemy scared him, yet didn't slow him. But physical contact with people he would rather not know was way outside of his comfort zone. He never got used to it.

After what seemed like an age of agonising proximity, she called up to Alishia to tell her they were finished. Following one final, icy cold rinse, Sheppard felt her pushing him through the doorway and he stumbled out into the main room, strategically folding his hands in front of himself to cover anything embarrassing his cloying underwear might reveal. On the bed sat some clothes, clean hand-sewn garments much like those the other men sported, except pristine in comparison. Where had they come from? He supposed she must have laid them out when he first went in the shower alone. Did she keep supplies of clean clothes for her favourites, too?

'Get dressed,' she ordered, snatching some less crudely made garments from the cupboard on the opposite side of the bed from her nightstand.

Sheppard pulled on the tunic first, briefly toying with the idea of slipping off his sodden underwear before hitching on the trousers. But he knew he wouldn't be able to do it without giving away all his secrets; the tunic wasn't quite long enough to cover everything. He decided to hang on to his boxers and let the sun dry them as he worked. He assumed there would be more work before sundown, even after a Wraith attack. Sarayah didn't strike him as the type to let the men slack for something so trivial.

While he was distracted, Sarayah had armed herself again, this time back to the old faithful Genii weapon. So, the P-90 was presumably hidden in her room somewhere again. She hadn't had time to put it anywhere else. Sheppard cast his eyes around, hoping to see some clue of its whereabouts. He found none.

A few moments later, Muscles showed up with a flagon and a cup. She thrust the cup toward Sheppard and when he took it, filled it almost to the brim with a murky green liquid that resembled stagnant pond water. 'Drink it,' she barked.

He lifted it to take a sip, but the smell alone forced him back. 'Whoa. What the hell is this stuff?'

'Probably the difference between life and death for you, so I suggest you drink it and stop talking,' Sarayah warned, gesturing toward the cup with her gun.

Figuring if he took it tentatively he'd never force it all down, Sheppard threw the disgusting brew back, trying to block the repulsive flavour from his mind. It tasted like the soap had smelled, suggesting they shared several ingredients in common. His stomach tried to rebel as soon as the drink hit it, but he wouldn't allow it to. Though he gagged a couple of times, he drank it all, then forced himself to think of a cold bottle of Bud and how refreshing that would be, rather than wasting a moment of contemplation on the foul concoction he'd just imbibed. The distraction seemed to work, and the drink he'd thought would come straight back stayed put against all the odds.

Alishia took the cup from him, then handed it to Sarayah and filled it again. She, too, struggled to swallow the mixture, but battled it down and kept it in.

Once that was done, she handed the gun to Muscles so she could take over babysitting duties, and donned a pair of hide gloves. As she picked up their hastily removed clothes and marched out into the sunlight, holding them out at arm's length, Muscles grunted that he should follow her, so he did. 'So, is that it? Are you sending me back to the others, because if I'm infected, I doubt anything you've just done is going to help?' he asked.

She stopped at the door and turned to look at him. 'What would you prefer, that you and I be kept in isolation together?' she asked with a twitch of her eyebrow.

'Er...no...I suppose not,' he stammered, backing down while he was ahead.

'It would be protocol to remove him from –'

Sarayah glared at Alishia, clearly furious at her interruption. 'We all know every man in this camp has been exposed to the virus at some point. I am reviewing the protocol.'

'So, no one else goes in that hut?' Sheppard asked hopefully.

Her fiery gaze now met his. 'It's a temporary review.'

His jaw dropped. 'But that's –'

A jab in his back from Alishia warned him to hold his tongue.

Sarayah headed out of the door, Sheppard and Alishia following her, and it only took a few seconds longer for him to realise exactly where Sarayah was heading with their contaminated clothing.

'Wait...hold on...stop!'

Sarayah slammed to a halt and turned, still holding the clothes out like a captured skunk. 'What is it?'

'I thought you said we were getting clean? You don't have to burn my clothes. I'll wash them.'

'This is what we do after dealing with the sick. We always burn our clothes.'

Without further explanation or debate, she headed over to the fire, throwing the clothes into the flickering flames and watching as they were consumed. Sheppard watched, too, his heart sinking. Those clothes were the one thing that had separated him from the other men, the thing that had made him look and feel different. Now they were gone, and he felt he'd lost his grip on the last shred of his old life he'd been clinging to.

'Head count!' Sarayah suddenly snapped.

The other women cajoled the remaining prisoners into the yard beside the fire. Even at a quick glance, Sheppard could see a number of them were missing.

'Sixteen,' Sarayah muttered after casting a look over the group. 'Eight missing. It's a loss we could certainly do without.'

From the corner of his eye, Sheppard spotted movement. Afraid it might be another Wraith, he snapped his head round, seeing one of the inmates heading toward the open gate.

'Stop right there,' Sarayah called after him, raising her gun.

The man looked at her, then put his head down and ran. Sensing she was about to fire on him, Sheppard grabbed her arm and forced it down, the bullet burying itself into the ground. 'What the hell are you doing? You just said you could do without losing men, and you're going to shoot him?'

She snatched her hand free, and the next thing he knew he was on his knees in the dirt, his forehead throbbing. He guessing she'd clubbed him with the gun again – it had happened enough times now for him to recognise the signs. He waited for the throbbing to subside before lifting his head, knowing the brilliance of the sunlight would only add to his misery if he didn't wait for his vision to clear.

'Talisa, Morgath – go after him!' he heard Sarayah bark. Then, she got down on one knee, lifting Sheppard's chin until he was looking her in the eye. 'You belong here now. I can make your life easy, or I can make it hard. Learn your place and I guarantee the first. Keep questioning my actions...'

She left it at that, but the insinuation was clear enough. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure he wanted to be part of what she considered the "easy" life. He guessed it included the reason why there had been two cups on her nightstand and her bedclothes had looked so trashed that morning, not to mention why she kept a stock of men's clothes in her room. McKay might think he planned to Kirk his way around the galaxy, but there was no way he was going to stoop that low with this fruitcake.

'Up,' she ordered. He got to his feet, swaying a little with the change in altitude. She caught his arm to steady him. 'We will eat now to recover from our ordeal, and then it's back to work,' she called to everyone gathered there.

'I wouldn't expect anything less,' he grimaced, touching his tender temple.

She pulled him past the fire towards the dinner hut, the major seeing the last fragments of his uniform go up in flames as he passed it. _It doesn't matter, _he told himself. _You're still a free man if you choose to be._

Once in the hut, Sheppard sought out Balfor as he always did and sat down beside him. 'You all right?' he asked, worried by the older man's ashen complexion.

'Thanks to you,' he nodded, but he seemed far from it. 'At least that horror is over.'

Sheppard didn't have the heart to tell him it was only a matter of time before the Hive ship turned up. He could worry enough for the both of them anyway.

From outside the hut, he heard a scream, shortly followed by another, then another. He tensed, fearing the worst, and was about to rise when Balfor laid his hand on top of his. 'Do not concern yourself with that. You will only bring more trouble on yourself.'

'What's happening?'

'It seems they already caught Trelif – the man who tried to escape. He is being punished.'

'And how many lashes does attempted escape warrant?' he asked, wincing as another gurgling scream tore its way through the hut.

'Ten.'

That was what he'd endured, and he was far fitter than that poor, skinny waif of a guy. Their whips would probably cut him down to the bone since he had so little flesh on him.

'You look...clean,' Balfor said, changing the subject.

'Er...yeah. I went in that sick hut during the Wraith attack and they had to decontaminate me. Did you know there are living people lying in there amongst dead bodies?'

Balfor dropped his eyes to his plate in shame. 'The women will not go near them, nor will they permit us to do so. They don't know how to treat the sickness, and hope that keeping anyone affected confined will help it to simply die out. You should consider yourself fortunate that she didn't leave you in there with them.'

Sheppard shook his head with a grim smile. 'Well, I think Sarayah may have her own reasons for that,' he mumbled. 'No offence, Balfor, but your society is seriously screwed up.'

A plate slammed down between them. He looked up to find Sarayah standing over him, Muscles at her shoulder. 'Move, old man,' she ordered.

Without question, Balfor climbed out of his seat and moved around to the other side of the table to give her room.

The two women took up position either side of the major, straddling the bench and leaving him with nowhere to swing his legs to get out until they were ready to let him go.

'Something I can do for you?' he asked casually, looking from one to the other of them.

'We're interested in hearing what you know of the Wraith. You've clearly fought them before,' Sarayah answered.

Beside him, Muscles dove into her plate of food with huge enthusiasm, making noises not that dissimilar to a pig with its head in a trough. He tried not to look as disgusted as he felt, figuring it would only get him into more trouble. 'Yeah, I've tackled them a few times,' he admitted.

Muscles looked up, her mouth surrounded by crushed food and saliva. He shuddered involuntarily.

'Then you might be able to help us formulate a defence for when they return. Give me that gun, Alishia.'

Muscles stopped eating long enough to reach into the back of her belt and pull out the Wraith stunner she'd procured from one of their attackers. She handed it over, crumbs and all, to Sarayah.

'Do they all carry weapons such as this?'

'They do.'

'And what is their purpose?'

'They stun the victim long enough for them to be taken prisoner or fed on.'

The smell of smoke drifted into the hut, along with distant shouts of distress. He looked toward the door, wondering where it was coming from.

'Do not concern yourself with that, Sheppard. We're burning the sick hut and the dead Wraith. We could not spare the time it would take to repair the door the Wraith broke for fear of contamination. It's safer this way.'

His meal suddenly lost its limited appeal, and he dropped the bread he'd been about to eat back onto the plate. 'You people are sick.'

'No, we're not. And I plan to keep it that way.'

He shook his head, rage seething though him. 'And I thought the Wraith were the ones with no conscience.'

'So what can we expect of them?' she asked, ignoring his snipe. 'They last came here more than two generations ago. Sarndon often tells stories about them to the others – says they culled his people time and time again – but it has never happened in our lifetime.'

Sheppard's anger made him raise his eyes to hers and hold them with a fierce gaze. 'Well, something tells me you're going to see them in action first hand real soon,' Sheppard warned her again. 'And there isn't a damn thing I can teach you that will help when that happens.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'You're a military commander of your people – a warrior – there must be much you can teach us.'

'Actually, I'm more of a pilot. Call me lazy, but I only do the hand to hand fighting when I really have to.'

She frowned. 'Pilot. What does that mean?'

'Well, you saw that machine Dr Weir brought with her to your village – that's called a Puddle Jumper, and I fly them.'

'So they fly great distances...like a bird?'

'Well...kinda, I suppose. If you guys hadn't hit me over the head and thrown me in a cell, I might have taken you for a flight.'

'I should very much like to fly one of those contraptions,' she grinned, no doubt thinking of the trouble she could cause in one.

Sheppard couldn't suppress the smirk the thought of disappointing her brought to his face. 'Sorry, but you can't. The jumpers have a component that means they only work for people with a certain gene, like the one the Ancestors had. I take it you've heard of them...most people in this galaxy refer to them that way. So, unless you share their genetics, you wouldn't be able to activate it.'

Muscles choked on her meal, coughing chewed up morsels onto his arm. He grimaced, brushing them away, then noticed the two women were staring at each other as if they'd seen a Wraith.

'Finish your meal,' Sarayah grunted, gesturing sharply for Alishia to follow her. Without another word, the two of them stood and left, muttering to each other as they walked away.

Sheppard picked a few splinters from his arm as he continued to brush himself off. 'What's up with them?' he asked.

When he looked up to see why Balfor hadn't answered, he saw the same slack-faced stare the two women had departed with. 'You have just uttered the words every woman on this planet has dreaded hearing for centuries. I believe you may be our deliverer.'


	10. Chapter 10

This time, Elizabeth was determined to push back some boundaries with Allanae and force her to give ground. She didn't enjoy playing the heavy-handed official, but if it meant she could at least see Sheppard and talk to him, she would make an exception...again.

On hearing the news of their arrival, the old woman strode out of her home to meet them in the village clearing. 'I thought I made it clear you were no longer welcome here when you last departed,' she grumbled as others from the village gathered behind her.

'You did. But you're still holding one of my people prisoner, and I don't leave people behind,' Elizabeth stated, quoting a line she'd heard Sheppard use several times.

'Your male chose to stay here when we gave him the opportunity to leave. He is currently being integrated into our society as part of his punishment. We no longer hold him at the village. You can search for him if you wish, but I assure you, the welcome you will receive if you do find him will be far less warm than this.'

'When you say "integrated', what exactly do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, her bright eyes narrowing to barely more than slits at she glared at the woman.

'Our men serve a purpose...he is working to keep the village self sustaining, as much as is possible. That way, he will learn about our culture and appreciate why things are as they are.'

'Will his duties include increasing your population?'

Allanae seemed initially flustered by the question, but quickly pulled herself back together before her people. 'Not as yet. We give new entrants time to settle into our way of life before we ask then to fulfil all expectations.'

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Teyla. The Athosian had been right in her concerns, and flirtatious as the major could be, she knew how strongly he would kick against the suggestion of furthering an alien population. 'How long do you expect to keep him here?' she demanded.

'As long as it takes for him to change his views.'

'Till hell freezes over then,' Elizabeth muttered, throwing a worried glance Teyla's way. 'And what happens if he refuses to carry out all his duties?'

The question seemed to genuinely puzzle all the women gathered there. They looked at each other, some of them clutching female children no doubt fathered by their enslaved men. 'He will not refuse. No man ever refuses,' Allanae replied.

Though the response brought a smirk to her face, Elizabeth felt her anger begin to mount at the arrogance of such a suggestion. 'You must be very persuasive. I can't imagine any man treated in the way you've treated the major agreeing to play a part in keeping this society going.'

Again, the women exchanged odd looks among themselves, as if Elizabeth were speaking of concepts so completely alien to them they had no hope of understanding what she meant. 'We have our ways,' was all Allanae would say.

Hearing that, Elizabeth finally conceded to herself that these people could not be reasoned with. If they truly couldn't see any harm in treating the men the way they did, they were years away from enlightenment. It was time to bring pressure to bear on them and force them to release the major.

'Allanae, I will ask just one more time that you allow me to meet with Major Sheppard and speak to him on a one to one basis.'

The atmosphere immediately changed, and she and Teyla moved closer to one another as some of the women began to draw concealed weapons from their clothing.

'I think I have made it perfectly clear to you, Dr Weir, that the man you call Major Sheppard is no longer a part of your society. Therefore, there is no reason for you to speak to him, is there?'

'Oh, I don't know, I think this is a pretty good reason.' She tapped her earpiece. 'Sergeant Markham.'

Markham dropped the cloaking field surrounding the jumper he, Sergeant Stackhouse and Lieutenant Ford currently hovered above the tree line in. 'Trust me, Allanae, those guns you have won't even put a dent in that ship before they can blow you off the face of this planet. Now, that chat I was talking about?'

Allanae visibly paled. She'd clearly had no idea the jumper was with them this time. 'Very well. You may meet with him, but not alone. I want to hear what he says to you; men are liars and I don't want him spreading his deceptions among you and your other people.'

She and Elizabeth held each other's gaze for what felt like an age, but eventually Elizabeth conceded to her conditions. That was as much as she'd needed anyway. It was a little trick she'd picked up after brokering numerous difficult negotiations. Ask for more than you want, then the other party feels they have won some small victory when they push back a little. Elizabeth didn't need time alone with Sheppard. She knew he would tell her whatever he wanted her to know no matter who was there because he was like her – almost impossible to intimidate. All she needed was to see him in person to know he was okay and take him back to Atlantis if possible.

oooOOOooo

Scratching at the now softening three days worth of growth on his chin, Sheppard took a moment to stretch out his back before emptying the two pails of water he'd collected at the stream into the huge barrels behind the guards' quarters.

This was his task for the day, and he'd already been at it for two hours. The heat was just beginning to build, and the water was enticing, but he wasn't even allowed to take one mouthful to moisten his dry tongue and lips; Sarayah had made that much perfectly clear at the start of his task. A jab in the back urged him on. 'Come on, there are still three more to fill before the end of the day, and you haven't even half filled the second one,' she told him.

He already knew that. He'd gaped in awestruck horror at the five barrels as she'd released the dregs of stale water sitting at the bottom of them onto the ground and told him it was his job to refill them. That was too big a job for one man in one day; she obviously meant to punish him for being the one the women dreaded.

He'd had a horrible night's sleep, constantly waking at every noise, and when he could sleep, he imagined a Hive ship was hovering over the village, and the place was swarming with phantoms and drones, each time waking just as their harvesting beam engulfed him. On several of those occasions, he'd had the feeling he was being watched, sensing someone lurking in the shadows. He hadn't moved or let on he was aware, because he was almost certain it was Sarayah. She'd been unbearable for the rest of the day, making no allowance for the fact he'd injured his shoulder, as he'd cut down that hulking great tree and chopped it up for firewood late into the evening. Now he badly needed rest to recuperate from the exertions of the previous day...and to get his thinking straight.

As he'd walked backwards and forwards to the stream, arms straining with the weight of his full pails, he'd given Elizabeth's viewpoint some serious consideration. Though on the evening of his first day there he'd wondered if he'd made a mistake, saying he would stay until she fixed things, many things he'd learned since made him realise this society had to change. Sure, he had some sympathy for the fear the women had that the men might rise up and treat them as badly as they used to, but that didn't justify infanticide and corporal punishment, not to mention their treatment of the sick. And now, Sarayah was deliberately stopping him from taking action that could save them from the looming Wraith culling. Well, she needn't think she could keep him down for long; the first time he had an opportunity to speak with Allanae, he would damn well make her listen to him, no matter how many lashes they threatened him with.

Before they'd fallen asleep, Balfor had explained more about the history of Medulsa. Once, they had enjoyed protection from the Wraith – a magical beam of light that destroyed their ships before they could even land. It came from a machine the Ancestors had given to them millennia ago, and the villagers had tended it and kept it clean for the many centuries that had followed, but then, some time around seven hundred years ago, the machine had stopped working. Though the Wraith didn't trouble them immediately, after fifty years of peace they appeared, finding the planet undefended. The population was culled, leaving only a fraction of them to begin rebuilding their village. After two more such cullings over two more generations, the then village elder, a man called Etham, decided they should separate out the community, sacrificing some to save the majority. Understandably, few wanted to be the sacrifice, and so the men had overpowered the women, finding them the most easy to overwhelm. Many of them were sent to the prison camp near the gate, while others were held elsewhere to ensure they could repopulate the village once a culling had taken place.

With each generation, half the women and the few brave guards who volunteered to watch over them were lost. Eventually, with their population in decline, the women had launched their rebellion, desperation making them strong and cunning in their attacks. But, evidently feeling more conscience about their actions, they had made the proviso that the day a man was able to fix the Ancient device that had once protected their planet, all men would go free. At the time it had no doubt seemed a safe assurance to give, because they'd been confident that the Ancients were long gone, and they knew no one else could work the device.

But Sheppard had the felling the system that had served to maintain this planet's population wouldn't work this time. Not only had the sickness decimated the numbers in the camp to a level he felt certain would not satisfy the Wraith, they had gained effective firearms, something he doubted they had possessed two generations ago. The Wraith would seek to wipe out this planet's population unless they got that machine running, but who would listen to him? Certainly not his present company.

Now, he realised, his presence there threatened the women's hold over the men. He'd wondered why Sarayah hadn't just killed him in his sleep to rid them of the problem, but he knew the answer if he allowed himself to think about it. The fact she rarely took her eyes off him told him all he needed to know about what she thought of him. Well, he wasn't going to let her stupid threats and violence keep him from saving these people. She might think she was tough, but he'd had drill sergeants far worse than her while a recruit. Her little tricks wouldn't faze him...not any more.

'Keep moving,' he heard her growl from a few steps behind him, and he realised he'd slowed his pace a little while thinking things through.

He reached the stream after some ten minutes of walking, submerging the buckets to fill them, then dragging them back onto the bank. The water glistened, so cold and refreshing...just a mouthful and a minute of rest would get him going again.

Without asking, he scooped a handful up from the stream and drank it, revelling in the relief it provided to his arid throat.

A sharp pain in the back of his head sent him spilling to his knees before the water could even make it all the way down his gullet. She'd hit him with that damned gun again.

'I said no drinking,' she hissed, standing over him. 'Was that too difficult for you to understand? Should I use smaller words for you?'

'I can work better if I drink a little. It's not like I took it from your supplies.'

Another blow, this time on the muscles between his neck and shoulder, told him he should shut up and do as he was told. 'This planet belongs to us women. So even the water you take from the stream is plundering our supplies,' she rationalised.

There was no winning with this woman. Sheppard was just about to give her a piece of his mind when he heard a familiar sound. A jumper flew low over the wood, turning toward the encampment. 'I take it you're not the only man who can operate the Ancient craft?' she asked

'Nope,' he replied, almost able to hear the cogs turning as she calculated what that meant. 'There's quite a few other _men _who can do what I do.' He neglected to tell her some women also bore the gene out of pure spite. He figured he deserved the chance to play mind games with her after everything she'd put him through over the past few days.

She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, staring up at the treetops for a moment or two longer. Then, she ordered him on. He trudged back into the yard to see the jumper parked outside the dinner hut. The smell of smoke still hung thickly in the air, the smouldering remnants of the sick hut a horrific reminder of what had transpired yesterday. Sarayah steered him a different route to the barrels, ensuring he didn't pass the jumper as if she feared he might leap aboard and escape. It was a tempting thought...he wondered if he could make a break for it before she shot him.

As he poured the water into the barrel, a younger member of the Sarayah's team hurried over and spoke quietly with her. Sheppard turned to find their eyes on him as they whispered between themselves; apparently, whatever they were discussing had something to do with him.

A moment later, Sarayah sent the girl away with a quick flick of her wrist. 'Seems your friends are insistent on meeting with you,' she said, approaching him.

'Well, it'll be nice to see a friendly face.'

She launched for him then, slamming him against a barrel as she pulled her knife, pressing the blade to his throat. 'Any mention of the sickness or of the supposed impending Wraith attack, and I will not only cut out your tongue, but I will slit the throat of your old man friend. Understood?'

The threat to himself didn't worry him. He would fight her tooth and nail and probably win, but the thought of her cutting Balfor's throat as he slept gave him pause for thought. He didn't want that on his conscience. He nodded, at least as much as he dared to with a blade pressing against his Adam's Apple.

She snatched the knife back, tucking it into her belt and gesturing with her gun for him to walk on ahead of her. Sheppard's thoughts raced; this was his chance to do something to make a difference. He had to find some way to tell whoever was here, presumably Elizabeth, that he needed Rodney to find the source of the intermittent energy spikes and fix the machine – preferably today. Without actually coming out and stating it, he wasn't quite sure how to do that, but one thing he did know, he wasn't going to leave that building until he knew they understood what he needed.

He mounted the three steps to the hut, noticing how filthy his feet were as he watched his footing. He'd hardly felt the ground beneath his feet, he'd been so deep in thought as he'd worked, but now he realised the bottoms were grazed and raw as well as black with dirt.

Inside, he saw both Teyla and Elizabeth facing him on one side of the long table closest to the door. The sudden change in their expressions told him he looked rougher than he'd thought.

'What's happened to him?' Elizabeth asked. 'Did you break his nose?'

Sarayah quickly stepped in to explain. 'He was involved in a disagreement with one of our other males – a Genii who trained under a military leader your male shot.'

'Kolya?' Elizabeth breathed. 'I see.' But the way she said it suggested she wasn't sure whether to believe them.

'Sit,' Sarayah ordered, prodding Sheppard toward the bench opposite them.

He sat beside Allanae, seeing her disbelief, too. It was a relief to take the weight off his aching legs and sore feet, even if he didn't particularly enjoy seeing the pained expressions of his friends.

Elizabeth reached out a hand across the tabletop, leaving it lying flat there. It was as close to physical contact as she would come with him; she knew he wasn't big on being demonstrative. 'Are you all right, John?'

He shrugged. 'I've been better, but I'll live.'

Sarayah, now sitting beside him, cast him a warning look.

'Where are Major Sheppard's clothes?' Elizabeth demanded. 'I'm not sure I like the fact he's dressed in one of your prison uniforms already.'

'This is traditional Medulsan clothing, nothing more,' Allanae assured her.

'His other clothes were damaged during the work he's been undertaking for us,' Sarayah added by way of an explanation.

Elizabeth didn't look convinced. 'Hmm, so a uniform designed to be worn in combat situations wore out while he was...?'

'Working,' Sarayah reiterated, giving nothing more away.

'You can see why to us, as outsiders, this might seem like an attempt to remove his sense of identity, though?' Elizabeth asked, her bright, intelligent eyes fixing on the woman and leaving no doubt that she didn't believe her.

Sarayah declined to answer.

'Are you ready to come back with us now, Major?' Elizabeth asked, turning her attention back to Sheppard.

He held her gaze a few seconds longer than normal before speaking, hoping she would pick up on the unusualness of that. 'No. It's really important that I stay here. These people need help.'

A momentary frown puckered her brow, but then he saw something in her eyes that made him think she understood his remaining there wasn't exactly a choice. 'You know we need you back with us, too?' she said, maintaining the ruse.

'I know, but Lieutenant Ford can take care of things there for a while. Right?'

'Is there anything we can do to help?' Teyla asked.

'No,' Sarayah answered before he could.

Teyla pulled back, seemingly insulted by the sharpness of her tone.

'Funny,' Sheppard continued. 'Who'd have thought that stupid signal McKay wanted to track would land me in this much trouble. He thought it might be one of those devices like the one we found on Proculus. Boy, we could really do with one of those right about now.'

He held her gaze again, his eyes penetrating into hers. It hadn't been a machine on Proculus, but they'd thought it might be. Maybe he'd just confused things, but he didn't know what else he could say without putting Balfor in danger. _Please understand._

If she did, she gave nothing away with her next statement. 'Well, we all make mistakes, doesn't mean you have to keep paying for them. I'm sure these ladies will accept an apology and let you go.'

Sheppard ventured a look at Sarayah, whose fierce glare left him in no doubt that she meant what she'd said at the water barrels, then he looked at Allanae. 'Sorry, but I'm not about to apologise when I've done nothing wrong. I do still have _some _pride.'

'Your male has no respect for our culture, Dr Weir. This is why he must remain here to continue with his punishment,' Allanae insisted. 'Men cannot be allowed to form such opinions. They are dangerous creatures who must be controlled.'

'If that's truly how you feel, I pity you, because I can only assume something awful must have happened in this village's past to make you think that way,' Weir challenged. He recognised her attempt to draw information from them, but it met with their usual resistance.

'We neither want nor need your pity, Dr Weir. You have heard your male's words. He intends to stay with us. With that fact in mind, you are no longer welcome on Medulsa. Be certain not to return here again.'

Teyla and Elizabeth exchanged a concerned look. Sheppard's heart beat a little faster; they had to leave already and he didn't know if he'd said enough. He had to get McKay on that machine.

They stood and so did he, all walking to the end of the table where Elizabeth stopped to talk to him. 'Take care, John. We _will_ be back.'

Teyla pulled him into one of her customary head touches, where she whispered, 'Do not fear. I am certain Rodney will fix it.'

He stood back from her, almost wanting to burst into tears of relief. Almost. Teyla had understood he needed Rodney's help, and he suspected Elizabeth had, too. Now, he just had to hope Elizabeth deemed it necessary to risk McKay's freedom to fix the machine.


	11. Chapter 11

'Keep it straight, McKay!' Ford order, grabbing hold of the control panel in front of him as if he thought Rodney might actually be about to tip him out of his seat.

'I'm doing the best I can, okay?' the scientist spat back, knuckles white with anxiety. 'It's not like I ever planned on being a pilot, all right?'

'The way you're flying, everyone on the planet's going to know we're here,' the lieutenant warned, firing him a sour look.

'Don't be ridiculous, we're cloaked...at least I think –' The jumper's interface fired up, giving the information he wanted to see. 'Yes, see, we're cloaked. These cavemen won't have a clue what's going on.'

'You mean you weren't even sure?' Ford asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. 'I thought you said you knew what you were doing!'

'I do know what to do...theoretically, flying this thing is pretty simple. It's just that it gets a little complicated when I have to put things into action.'

Ford shook his head, smirking as another thought came to him. 'I bet you failed driver's ed, didn't you?'

'They accused me of being highly strung, can you believe that?'

Ford tried hard not to laugh. 'That's hard to imagine.'

'Well, here we go. This is where that energy spike is coming from,' McKay said, guiding the craft down to a clearing near a rock formation. The landing was a little bumpier than he would have liked, but not as bad as some he'd fumbled his way through. He guessed those lessons with Sheppard had started to pay off.

Ford took point as they disembarked, scouring the darkening tree line for any signs of life. The sun was descending toward the horizon, casting long shadows all around them that could easily hide unwanted observers. When it became clear they were alone, Ford signalled that it was safe for Rodney to emerge. The scientist gestured toward the rocks and Ford nodded an acknowledgement, heading that way with McKay pressed in close behind him.

Sure enough, as they got nearer, they could see an opening in the craggy face. Ford pulled back the vines and branches partially covering it to reveal the cave that lay beyond.

'Bingo!' McKay said cheerfully, following him in.

Ford switched on the torch on his weapon, while McKay activated something more substantial to light their way. It was cold and damp in there, but they didn't let that slow them. If Sheppard was right, this was going to be an important discovery, not only for this planet, but for Atlantis, too.

The entrance in the rock was actually a tunnel, which led out into an open circular area, and at its centre, hidden under decades of underbrush and grasses, was an Ancient device.

'That's it,' McKay hissed. 'This is what's been giving off those signals.'

Ford helped him strip back the plant life, and examine the machine. 'So, do you think you can get it working?'

'I'm a brilliant scientist, not a psychic, Lieutenant. Perhaps if you back off and give me some room to work, I might be able to answer that.'

Ford sucked in his cheeks and bit back the insults he clearly felt like throwing at him. 'Just fix the damn thing quickly,' he whispered, looking up at the sky. 'If that_ is_ a weapon, Dr Weir said the major hinted we might need it real soon.'

'Oh, no pressure then?' McKay grouched, pulling out his laptop and settling down to what promised to be several hours of work.

Ford huffed and kept an eye on the tunnel they'd entered through. It was the quickest way in and out of that amphitheatre, and as such he gave it his full attention.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard hadn't managed to fill all five barrels, but Sarayah proved kinder than expected and allowed him to stop in time to enjoy his evening meal with the others.

Only this time did he think to look around the dinner hut at the others gathered there and notice which faces were missing, men whose names he hadn't even had the time or energy to learn. Somewhere, the Wraith were holding them in stasis for later, or already feeding on them. The thought almost put him off his meal, almost, but not quite. His exertions to and from the stream had helped him work up quite an appetite, and he wasn't about to let a guilty conscience stop him eating his fill. He needed every ounce of strength he could muster in this place.

Balfor's health seemed to have deteriorated since he'd seen him last in the late morning. His complexion was a little grey and his breathing sounded laboured. The major wondered if he might be coming down with the sickness, and what that meant for him if he was. If he got sick, he might have to let these guys down after all. He'd seen some of the women already clearing out another hut, which he assumed would become the new sick hut. There was no way they were shutting him in there; they would have to kill him first.

They drank and ate their fill, Sarayah bringing him extra portions. Across the table, a young man glared at him, fiddling with his own meagre plateful. Sheppard noticed the looks he was casting his way, but chose to ignore them. He didn't need any more hassle than he already had. Sarndon had been throwing him similarly mean looks, which he supposed was because he had a split in his forehead where the dormitory door had hit him when he'd forced it open yesterday.

Balfor coughed, and Sheppard leaned away from him, conscious of the germs.

A hand landing on his shoulder made him jump more than it should have, and Sarayah leaned over him, refilling his drink. 'You did well today, pretty one. You worked hard and kept quiet, just like I asked you to. So, have some more.'

He eyed her dubiously, watching her as she walked away, her eyes fixed on him the whole time. The young man sitting on the opposite side of the table blew down his nose like and angry bull, swiping up his plate and cup and moving to the other table where Sarndon lurked. Sheppard frowned, wondering what he'd done to offend him.

'Talsan used to be Sarayah's favourite,' Balfor explained. 'He used to get the extra portions and favours. Things have been different since your arrival, and he's not happy.'

'He's pretty young,' Sheppard said, watching the man angrily snatch up his food and chew it to oblivion. 'What is he? Twenty?'

'Twenty-two. But you're right; he is still far younger than Sarayah. But that woman runs this camp. She takes her pick of the inmates, and few are foolish enough to refuse her. Talsan, on the other hand, actually seemed to enjoy the attention.'

Sheppard curled his lip at the thought, then picked up his water and took a sip, noticing a strange aftertaste as he swallowed. Balfor obviously spotted his hesitation and asked, 'What is it, Sheppard?'

'Tastes funny,' he replied.

Balfor caught his arm as he lifted the cup to his mouth again. 'Don't drink it. It contains the draught.'

'The draught?'

Balfor nodded. When Sarayah looked away for a brief moment, Balfor tipped Sheppard's drink into his own cup. 'After all these years I can smell the stuff at a hundred paces.'

'And what exactly is this draught?'

Balfor raised his eyebrows. 'You didn't think we willingly populated the village, did you? There has to be some _persuasion_.'

_Drugs, _he realised. _Oh, this just keeps getting better! _'So, she's planning to...?'

Balfor nodded.

'But Allanae said she should give me a couple of weeks to settle in first.'

'Sarayah rarely listens to Allanae. The elder doesn't come here often, so she doesn't know half of what that woman puts men through. She will use you just to control you.'

An idea began to germinate. He had sensed some animosity between Allanae and Sarayah on their previous meetings, so maybe he could use that growing mistrust to get Allanae to listen to him about fixing the ancient machine. Of course, that meant somehow getting to Allanae. He glanced at the liquid glistening in Balfor's cup, and realised he might have the means to do that.

'So, how exactly does the draught affect people?'

oooOOOooo

Sheppard allowed Sarayah and Muscles to assist him back to the dormitory, staggering all the way. Alishia threw him down on his blanket and departed, while Sarayah made sure the others were settled onto their blankets for the night. She knelt beside Sheppard and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. 'Too much sun for you, I think, pretty one,' she said, as if making an excuse for his behaviour in front of the others.

Balfor coughed somewhere near him, and Sheppard had to suppress the urge to flinch away from him, knowing he wouldn't care if he was as intoxicated as the draught should apparently render him. Instead, he smiled at Sarayah's touch and rolled onto his side, settling into his favourite sleeping position.

'Are you sick, old man?' he heard Sarayah ask.

'No, just thirsty,' Balfor grunted, even though it was obviously a lie.

When their warden left, Sheppard squinted up at Balfor. 'D'you think she bought it?' he whispered.

'She has no reason not to. I only hope you do not find she is more than you can handle.'

Sheppard closed his eyes without answering. Balfor had no idea what he could do when the situation called for it. Come to think of it, he wasn't quite sure himself...

At some point, completely exhausted by his water collection task, Sheppard had obviously drifted off to sleep. He only realised that when he heard the previously locked door creaking open. Somewhere nearby, Balfor was still coughing, and above that noise he heard footsteps heading their way. Feeling both annoyed and horrified, he heard Sarayah's voice whisper, 'We have to remove the old man. I think he has the sickness.'

Very carefully, Sheppard cracked open one eye, just wide enough to see Muscles, grab hold of Balfor, cover his mouth and drag him from the hut. Sarayah, however, didn't move. She stood only a couple of feet away, her back to him, watching Muscles leave. As he saw her feet start to turn in his direction, Sheppard snapped his eye shut again. He heard movement beside him – the rustle of clothing as she crouched down beside him, and then felt a hand stroking is cheek. He didn't react since he was pretty sure the contact wasn't firm enough to rouse him from his slumbers if he'd actually taken the drugs. Next thing he knew, she was rolling him onto his back and grabbing both his wrists, hauling him to his feet. 'Come on. You've been hanging around with that old man too much; we should make sure you're not sick, too.'

Sheppard's stomach flipped at the thought she might be about to take him into that new death hole, but he had to play along. This was his only way out of the locked dormitory. Once outside of it, he might find a way to extricate himself from her grip and make a break for it.

In his younger days, Sheppard had made it a kind of hobby to get his friends incredibly drunk so he could make fools of them with his pranks and practical jokes. One time, he'd shaved all the hair off one side of a friend's body, _all _of it, and the guy had been completely clueless about who had done it the next day. He was thankful for his annoying habit now, because it gave him plenty of idea just how out of it he should act to be considered compliant.

Once on his feet, he slumped forward, falling into her arms with his chin resting on her shoulder. If she was going to drag him to her lair, or worse, he meant to make her work at it. She grunted as she manoeuvred him into position – his arm around her shoulders, and her arm around his waist – then she began to steer him through the supine prisoners and on toward the door.

He deliberately slipped down the few steps that led up to it, forcing her to catch him and hold him up. He knew it was a strain on her, but it was the least she deserved after the last few days. This was payback time, and he planned to enjoy every minute. She sat him down on the steps, then locked the door behind them to ensure the other prisoners stayed put.

Once that was done, Sarayah gathered him back up and lead him across the yard. From the few glimpses he allowed himself, and his inbuilt sense of direction, he realised they were heading for her quarters. Much as the thought of what she had in mind for him turned his stomach again, he quickly assessed it would be easier to catch her off-guard in there.

He fell up the steps and onto the floor, sniggering at his own clumsiness as she dragged him back to his feet. He could hear her tutting and huffing as she carted his bulk in and shut the door behind him, leaning him so that he would fall onto her bed as she moved away to close the shutters.

He flopped face down on the mattress, enjoying the soft landing. He hadn't laid down on a comfortable surface for days, and even though this wasn't a patch on his bed back at Atlantis, compared to his grubby blanket back in the dormitory, it felt like heaven under his aching bones. He gave the sort of groan he usually reserved for climbing in bed after particularly hard days. He felt a little embarrassed about making his private 'thank God I'm in bed at last' noise, but figured if he was stoned, he'd feel no such inhibitions about vocalising his comfort.

'Does that feel good?' he heard her ask.

'Oh, yeeaah,' he slurred.

'You could use that bed more often, if you like.'

Although he knew exactly what she was inferring, he couldn't resist a quip. 'Nah, I couldn't ask you to give up your bed for me.'

Surprisingly, she actually snorted out a laugh at his comment. He heard her walking over to the bed and kneeling beside him, leaning in so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek. 'I wasn't planning to leave it.'

He gave it a few seconds, as if it was taking a while to fully compute her suggestion, then opened his eyes to look at her. 'I think you have the wrong impression of me...' he slurred, his eyes barely open so she couldn't see the lack of dilation in his pupils.

'Oh, I don't think so. You're a man, and men have needs.'

'Right now, I need to sleep,' he replied, rolling onto his side so he faced away from her.

He felt her catch hold of his shoulder and roll him onto his back. 'No, you're just relaxed. You don't need to sleep.' The bed dipped as she climbed on beside him, sliding her arm around his waist. 'I think there are other things we could do that would be much more pleasurable...for both of us.'

His stomach lurched again, but he kept his instinctive reaction to pull away under control. 'You're not trying to seduce me, are you?' he said with a silly smile.

'Would that be such a bad thing?' she asked.

_Yes! _his mind screamed_. _'But you hate me,' he said, frowning as if he was having difficulty working things out.

'Ah, you think because I work you hard and punish you when you've done wrong that I hate you. You couldn't be further from the truth. I want to mould you, make you fit in, then I won't have to be so tough on you. I plan for the two of us to grow closer –once you stop fighting me so much.'

'I see...it's tough love,' he slurred, closing his eyes to give the impression of unbearable dizziness.

Disturbingly, he felt her hand slip up inside his tunic, resting on his stomach. His skin wanted to crawl right out from under her fingers, but he didn't react, just covered his eyes with his hand and thought, _Oh, crap,_ over and over again.

But that was only the beginning. He felt her weight shift, moving further on top of him so half of his body was pinned to the bed. Then, she planted a kiss on his neck.

It took all of his self-control not to push her off, but this was his one chance to get out and appeal to Allanae – he couldn't waste it. So, he tipped his head back and made the appropriate noise to encourage her to continue, even as his mind and body screamed how much they hated the proximity of this woman, and he frantically thought about ways to get out of there.

'You're very different to the other men in this camp, pretty one,' she purred, stroking the several days of growth on his face. 'You have spirit, and strength – a sense of worth. It almost seems a pity to drive that out of you, though I'm sure I'll enjoy the process.'

She began dropping gentle kisses along his jawline, and again he fought down the urge to head for the hills.

'You know, you have...very pretty eyes for a sadist,' he murmured, wondering where the hell that had come from. He seriously hoped Rodney never found out about this sordid little episode. If he did, he'd never let him live that 'Kirk' tag down.

He heard her laugh again, and his body involuntarily erupted into goose bumps. _Goose bumps can be a good thing, _he convinced himself, hoping she wouldn't notice his body's negative reaction. She didn't, and soon she was pushing his tunic up and kissing his stomach.

While she was busy, he took the opportunity to look around for something he could use in his bid to escape. Beside the bed sat a pitcher and cups, and the faint aroma of fermented fruit carried to him on the air. It was better than the stale smell of her bedding, which was pretty disgusting he now noticed. He tried not to freak out at the thought of just how many times this woman had soiled her sheets with other men since she'd last had them cleaned. That kind of thinking was only going to cloud his judgement.

'Would you like some wine?' she asked, sliding up his body to reach for the pitcher and pour its contents into two cups.

'No thanks,' he said, pushing the cup away as she offered it to him, 'real men don't drink wine.'

She smirked. 'Is that so? And what do they drink then?'

'Beer,' he replied, closing his eyes and pretending to drift off again.

'I don't think I've ever heard of "beer".' He felt her hand sliding up his stomach again, so held his nerve and pretended to be spaced enough not to react. She kissed his neck again – gentle nips and nudges accompanying her actions. It was actually quite pleasurable after the pains he'd been put through recently; he allowed himself to be swept along for a moment in the warmth and comfort. That was until her mouth claimed his, her tongue snaking between his lips and plunging in deeply as her desire for him mounted.

_Okay_, he thought, trying not to panic, _I can do this_. He allowed her tongue to roam around his mouth, her kisses growing more feverish. Balfor had said she used sex as control, so he hadn't expected this. This was needy; this felt like desperation. And, more importantly, this felt like the ideal time to smack her upside the head with the pitcher.

So, he did.

He felt her fall limp, but she wasn't quite out, so he rolled her on her back and punched her to make sure she didn't get up before he had her secured. Then, he took her sheets and tore them into strips to tie up her arms and legs and gag her, though he couldn't help but think how those bedclothes would taste pretty bad. Not his problem. He had bigger fish to fry.

'Sorry about that,' he whispered, feeling a moment or two of guilt about hitting her, but it didn't last long.

He darted for the door, opening it slowly so it made the minimum amount of noise. Peering around in the darkness, he found no one in sight. Hopefully, they believed locking the men up for the night would mean they could sleep without the need for a lookout.

A noise startled him, and when he peered around the building he could just see Muscles locking up the door of the new sick hut, starting to strip away her clothing as she walked toward the smouldering cooking fire. Deciding that was a sight he could live without witnessing, he closed the door and darted around the back of Sarayah's quarters, heading for the dinner hut. He pushed all thoughts of saving Balfor from his mind for now; with any luck, if McKay could get the machine working and he could persuade Allanae to allow him to activate it under the threat of the impending Wraith attack, Balfor would be free to receive whatever medical attention he needed.

His escape plan had begun to form earlier in the day when he'd been filling the vats, and was half the reason he'd worked more slowly than he was actually capable of. He'd realised that the barrels were a good five feet high, and, if rolled over to the fence and climbed on, would give him enough of a boost to clear the perimeter wall.

The empty barrel proved heavier than he'd expected, and once he managed to tip it, it almost slipped from his grip. He strained to lower it quietly to the floor, desperate not to alert the guards to his plan, the damaged skin of his back pulling as he bent down with it. Muscles was stoking up the fire, the cracking and spitting of the wood as it heated up and burst into flames thankfully covering the sound of the barrel as he rolled it across the dry dirt on the ground. Heaving it up on end beside the wooden fence, Sheppard headed back to check what was going on, getting more of a glimpse of Muscles' muscular backside heading toward the guards' quarters than he'd hoped for. Shaking the sight away, he headed back to the barrel and hoisted himself up on top of it, then pulled himself up and over the top of the pointed wooden posts, adding a few more scrapes to his batter body in the effort. Not that it bothered him; he dropped to the floor on the other side a free man for the first time in days.

It was a good feeling.


	12. Chapter 12

The going through the woodland and across the fields that led back to the main village was far from easy with only the light of a distant moon to illuminate the terrain. The fact his feet were bare made things tougher as he stepped on sharp stones and twigs, and into slimy, odorous substances he didn't even want to think about, but suspected might be dead animals and the droppings of their living counterparts. Several times, Sheppard had to stop to pull shards of stone and thorns out of his soles so he could continue, each step difficult and painful for someone so unused to travelling barefoot.

Ignoring it all as best he could, he forced himself onward, hoping he was right in his bearings. He'd only made this journey once before, and, although he normally had a good sense of direction, that had been in daylight and the opposite direction. He couldn't allow doubts to creep in; the Wraith would be heading to the planet even as he trudged this path. They had to fix that machine, and he needed Allanae on side in case things went wrong.

Eventually, he caught sight of what looked like flames through the undergrowth, and he realised he could see the dying embers of the cooking fire at the centre of the village.

'Thank God,' he breathed, making his way to the edge of the forest and watching from that safe distance.

All seemed quiet; everyone appeared to have retired to their homes for the night. He supposed there was no need for anyone in the village to be up at this time when all the prisoners were secured so far away.

He heard a noise behind him and instinctively took cover behind a nearby tree. Though he waited, nothing showed. He held his breath, wondering whether it was safe to move or not. A few minutes later, a rustling to his left caught his attention, and a strange looking creature crept out, foraging for food in the fallen leaves and fauna. Relaxing, Sheppard returned his attention to the village.

He could see Allanae's hut from where he was standing. A faint light glowed in one window, suggesting she was still awake. Taking one last look around to assure himself there was nothing between her home and him, he darted out toward it, hoping she didn't lock her door at night so he could gain easy access.

The stunner blast that hit him in the back and rendered him unconscious stopped him worrying about that for long.

oooOOOooo

_Wraith!_ was the first conscious thought Sheppard formed as he roused again.

'Here's our boy,' a familiar voice chirped as he strained his eyes open. The light hurt, and he covered them again, hoping beyond hope he hadn't just seen what he thought he had. That couldn't be good.

'Are you all, right, Major?' another instantly recognisable voice asked.

Taking a moment to allow his eyes to acclimatise, Sheppard focused on Ford. 'Please tell me you're here to break me out.'

'Sorry, Sir. We got caught while McKay was fixing that machine.'

Sheppard sighed, covering his eyes again.

'In our defence, they did send some kind of woman-mountain out to detain us...and she was naked!'

Sheppard suppressed his urge to laugh at the mental image that conjured, focusing instead on just how dire their situation was. 'I don't understand how she knew to look for you at the machine.'

'She didn't. I heard her and another woman talking earlier and they weren't looking for us at all. She found the woman you knocked out and tied up, and they split up, figuring you'd either head to the Ancient device or the village. So, I guess we have you to thank for us being here.'

So it was Sarayah who had shot him with the stunner. He wondered if he might have been better off in the hands of the Wraith. 'Well, that wasn't quite the outcome I had in mind...'

'You have no idea how terrifying it is to see a huge, naked, red-haired woman leaping toward you out of the darkness...it was like all my worst nightmares coming true!'

Behind him, Ford tried hard not to laugh. Although Sheppard could sympathise that Alishia in her birthday suit wasn't the prettiest sight to behold, he really wasn't in the mood for one of Rodney's rants.

'Rodney, a Wraith cruiser is heading this way; it'll be arriving any time. I'm sorry you got caught, I really am, but right now I don't care how naked she was. Did you finish fixing the machine?'

'Yes...yes we did...and despite being knocked unconscious by a Wraith stunner, I'm fine, thanks for asking.'

Trying not to yell at his friend, Sheppard asked, 'And is it working now?'

'Er...no...not exactly.'

Sheppard squinted at him. 'Then what...exactly?' he snapped.

'I had to shut it down to perform the repairs – there was a fault in the interface between the long range sensors and the weapons unit – but I managed to run a simulation to work out how to get the power reaching all critical systems without overloading anything vital and blowing us all to oblivion. I got as far as bypassing the broken crystals, but I couldn't get the damn thing started again. I think it may need someone with the natural ATA gene to initialise it.'

'So it's fixed, but not working?'

'In a word, yeah,' Ford confirmed.

'But Elizabeth should know something went wrong by now,' Sheppard mused. 'She'll send someone looking for you.'

'I would hope so. We said we would let her know when it was working and that was hours ago,' McKay griped.

'Hours ago?'

'Yeah. You've been out quite a while, Sir. I heard the one who seemed to be in charge saying they drugged you to make sure you didn't wake up while she and another woman carried you back here.'

Sheppard slapped both hands to his face and rubbed hard, trying to clear the fog from his brain. So the machine was fixed, as far as they knew, but it still wasn't up and running. And it was now almost a day and a half since the Wraith attack, which meant they could show up any time. _Great, just great._

'Ford, it's essential we get back to that machine and get it up and running ASAP. We have to come up with a plan to get out of here.'

Ford's eyes flicked toward Talsan. 'With respect, Sir, I think this is a conversation best had at another time.'

The kid was sharp. Talsan was, indeed, listening in, no doubt hoping to feed Sarayah some piece of information that would win back her favour.

'Good idea, Lieutenant,' Sheppard agreed, throwing the young native a withering look that sent him retreating to a corner as far from them as he could get.

Behind them, the door of the hut opened, and Sarayah and Alishia stomped in, heading straight for Sheppard. Sarayah caught him by the shirtfront, wrenching him up to his feet. To his credit, Ford was straight in there, trying to prise her off until a gun to his temple forced him to retreat.

'Stand down, Lieutenant,' Sheppard ordered, receiving a slap for his trouble.

'When will you accept that I am the one who gives orders around here, not you?' Sarayah demanded, shaking him sharply.

'Force of habit,' he admitted, but he didn't apologise.

There was a blue bruise developing nicely on her jaw, the discomfort of which was no doubt adding to her bad humour. That and the headache the pitcher had probably given her. Normally, he would feel worse about hitting a woman, but in her case, he was happy to make an exception.

'Outside, now, all of you,' she shouted, dragging him to the door and throwing him down the steps to ground level. It didn't hurt that much, but he figured he knew what was coming, especially when he noticed the knotted strips of leather dangling at one of the other guards' side. Ten lashes; that was what the other escapee had earned.

Muscles caught him by his collar and dragged him out into the open and then round to the back of the dinner hut. He hadn't expected the detour, then, seeing the barrels and sensing what was about to happen, Sheppard dug his heels into the ground, trying to gain purchase and pull free, but Muscles was having none of it. Sarayah added her strength to the battle, and before he knew it he was head first in a barrel of water, desperately trying not to breathe it in. He told himself not to panic, hoping this was just another punishment and they would let him up. He held his breath until his lungs felt fit to burst. Thankfully, at that point they dragged him back out.

As he gasped in much needed oxygen, Sarayah caught hold of the back of his neck, growling in his ear, 'You weren't so worried about using the barrels last night, Sheppard. Why so reluctant now?'

This time he was ready, taking a deep breath before they levered him into the water again. But, as if anticipating the fact he had done that, they submerged him for longer. The pain of holding in his breath became almost unbearable, and just as he had to release the air trapped in his lungs, they pulled him up again.

His head was spinning, but he could hear McKay shouting insults in his panicked voice, a mixture of anger and pleading in the jumble of words spilling from his lips at close to light speed. He doubted the women would make much more sense of them than he could right at that moment. Just as he thought it was over, they hauled him up again, dunking him once more. This time, he didn't struggle, just waited, some deeply buried piece of knowledge about drowning telling him that struggling would only use up his stored oxygen more quickly. He was certain this wasn't intended to kill him, just to put him in his place, and he clung to that belief, even as he felt like his heart might burst from the sheer effort of holding his breath.

Finally, they pulled him out and let him slump to the ground, gasping in air that had never tasted so sweet. Unfortunately, it was driven out of him again somewhat too rapidly when Sarayah kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over.

'Don't think we've finished with you yet, pretty one. On your feet.'

Sheppard took a few more seconds to gather himself, then pushed up, standing on shaky legs. Muscles caught hold of his arm and towed him out to the centre of the encampment, the other guards steering the men out to follow him. Sarayah was making an example of him, that much was obvious, and he pretty much guessed what was coming next. Muscles forced him to his knees, then he heard his tunic tear and realised Sarayah was cutting his clothes away to ensure this hurt as much as it possibly could this time.

She caught hold of his face, twisting it toward her. 'You, Sheppard, have broken the rules of this encampment time and time again. Your deception cannot go unpunished, and it pains me that I am only entitled to give you fifteen lashes for the trouble you've caused.'

'I thought it was ten for attempting to escape,' he protested.

'And five more for hitting me,' she told him.

'But that was all part of the escape,' he pointed out, getting a backhand for his trouble.

She snatched the whip from her colleague, and positioned herself behind him, ready to strike. Sheppard heard Rodney shout, 'Look at the state of his back, already! You can't seriously be about to do this to him again.'

'You would prefer to take his punishment for him?' Sarayah asked, striding over to him.

Rodney's face fell, and his eyes grew saucer like with fear as he shrank away from her. To ease his conscience, Sheppard called out, 'Back down, Rodney. I knew what I was getting into.'

'Sir, I could –' Ford started, also anxious to do something – anything – to help.

'No, Lieutenant!'

Sarayah made up the ground between them in seconds, landing a boot in his ribs that sent him splaying onto his stomach. Ford tried to rush forward, but was swiftly restrained. Sheppard managed to keep his mouth shut this time, praying the Lieutenant had the sense to hold his position.

'How many times must I remind you of your place in this camp?' she asked, grabbing a handful of Sheppard's black locks and pulling his head back so he had to look at her. 'Perhaps these lashes will help to burn it into your poor memory. On your feet.'

He stood up, the breeze agitating the already sore skin of his back. And he'd only been thinking last night that it was starting to feel a little better...

Crack!

Sheppard pressed his lips together to stop the obscenities forming on the tip of his tongue from spilling out. He took a few deep breaths and prepared for the next lash.

Crack!

He winced, but still stayed silent, refusing to make eye contact with either of his teammates for fear they might feel compelled to act.

Craack!

Harder this time, and he couldn't fully stop the cry that caught on its way out. Somewhere ahead of him, he heard Rodney breathe, 'Oh, God!'

Crraack!

Harder still, and this time, his legs wobbled under the force of the blow. He knew his refusal to scream like Trelif had would make her crueller. But he had to stay strong in front of these people if he wanted them to believe in him, and he had the feeling he was going to need their help very soon.

Crraaacck!

This time, his knees almost buckled, and it took all his composure to regain his balance.

Crraaaccckk!

_Dammit!_ His knees betrayed him, thudding to the floor as another lash, the hardest yet, tore into the flesh of his back. His skin was on fire, and he heard Rodney whimper, not daring to speak again.

After that, he stopped counting again, all his efforts concentrated on holding back the screams echoing inside his raging head. He stayed as upright as he could, refusing to slouch under the onslaught. He might be on his knees, but he was determined to go no lower.

When he heard an argument break out behind him, he realised it was over. It took a few moments for him to understand what was going on, but when he turned, very stiffly, he saw Muscles holding Sarayah's wrist and telling her she'd done enough.

'Really?' Sarayah spat at her. 'Do you think so? I haven't heard him scream yet, have you?

'There are rules, Sarayah,' Alishia reminded her. 'We cannot keep breaking them when we feel we should. We will lose their respect.'

'I do not need their respect. I want their fear..._his _fear.'

'Sarayah, you know Allanae would not approve...'

'What does that foolish old woman know?' she spat, throwing the whip on the ground. 'Get him another tunic and then set him to work.'

'But –'

'Please, do not question me again, Alishia,' Sarayah warned, stalking away and telling the other guards to lead the men to today's worksite.

Alishia left Sheppard kneeling in the dirt while she watched the other men, his worried friends included, leaving the camp for a day of hard labour.

As long as he didn't move, the pain was almost bearable. Sheppard felt slightly woozy as he rocked backward and forward on his knees, trying to keep his balance. He figured this would be as good a time as any to pass out, but for some reason his brain didn't seem able to comply.

'Can you stand, Sheppard?' Alishia asked, grasping his upper arm and helping him to his feet far more gently than he had expected her to.

As soon as he was vertical he began to sway more violently, and she loaned him her support. His brain, which was obviously determined to torment him, decided to feed him an image of McKay screaming like a girl as the woman let out a primal scream and leapt for him, something he forced himself to ignore for fear it would make him laugh. He didn't think his back could handle laughter right now.

Alishia walked him over to Sarayah's hut and sat him on the bottom step where she could still see him as she collected a clean tunic to cover his wounds. Seemed a shame to use a clean one on him, he thought, knowing it would be covered in blood pretty much as soon as it came in contact with his skin, but then, a dirty shirt against open wounds didn't really bear thinking about...

Again, he was surprised to find the giant of a woman quite gentle as she helped guide the tunic over his head. Moving his arms into the sleeves was pure, undiluted agony, but once it was done, and he got used to the weight of the course fabric against his injured flesh, the pain settled to a manageable level again.

The next thing he knew as his mind started zoning out, was that a flask of something smelling decidedly alcoholic appeared under his nose.

'Here, drink some of this...for strength.'

Sheppard took the flask, eyeing her dubiously as he sniffed the contents for any signs of the draught.

'It's not drugged, if that's what you're checking for,' she assured him.

He threw some back, savouring the warm feeling it gave him inside as it ran down his throat. After allowing him another mouthful, she took it back from him. 'Why did you head back to the village last night?' she asked.

Her question surprised him. It seemed he had underestimated Alishia. She was far brighter than he'd given her credit for. 'I wanted to speak to Allanae.'

'About what?'

Sheppard sighed out a laugh into his chest, regretting it instantly as searing pain coursed its way through the wounds on his back. 'What's the point in me telling you? I'm a man. Nothing I say is of any value, right?'

The red-haired warrior gazed back at him, her expression fixed and serious, not threatening. 'Why don't you tell me what is so important that you risked being lashed, and I will decide if it is of value?' she suggested.

Sheppard pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help him to focus. 'You have an Ancient device on this planet, one that used to protect you against the Wraith in the past, but has been broken for a long time. We detected it when I first came here; it wasn't completely broken – the power source was still functioning. I believe you're about to be attacked by a Wraith hive ship and that machine could be the difference between everyone on this planet living or dying. I managed to get a message to my friends to ask them to come here and get it up and running again, but I wasn't sure if they would come quickly enough. I wanted to get to Allanae to tell her about the machine, and the fact my people can probably help cure your sickness so she would allow us to fix things for you. I can't I got caught that fast. I had a head start!'

'Sarayah is the fastest runner in our camp, and she knows the terrain far better than you.'

'And she had shoes.'

'That, too,' Alishia nodded. 'Why did you not speak to Sarayah about your worries rather than trying to escape?'

'I did. She threatened to cut my tongue out and kill Balfor if I said anything to anyone.' Alishia's lips thinned into an angry line as she listened to him, shaking her head. 'I swear it's the truth. We have to get that machine back online as soon as possible, and I'm the only one who can do it.'

'It's not you I doubt, Sheppard. It's Sarayah's sanity. I will get word to Allanae; if she says we should operate the machine, I will take you and your friends there personally.'

Sheppard couldn't believe he was making so much ground, yet it still might not be enough. 'But that could take hours...the Wraith could arrive before then. Can't you take me there now? I swear I won't try to escape.'

Alishia looked troubled by the suggestion; he saw her internal battle playing out across her expression. 'I cannot make the decision. Only an elder is allowed –'

'Your rules are going to get us all killed. C'mon...please!'

For a moment she looked as though she might relent, but then she stood firm to what the rules of their society demanded. 'I will send one of the other guards to Allanae and stress the importance that she go as quickly as possible – it's the most I can do.'

He watched her walk away to speak with a younger girl, the one he recognised as bringing the news of Elizabeth's arrival to Sarayah yesterday. She looked panicked, nodding as she listened to what Alishia told her, then she scurried away, running for all she was worth. Even at that pace, Sheppard figured the quickest she could get there and back was probably two hours.

'Come, we must set you to work before Sarayah comes looking for you,' Alishia said, helping him to stand again. Even that movement sent pain surging through him and into the pit of his stomach. He battled with the urge to be sick the now departing shock left him with and walked along with her to see his task for the day.

'I don't think she's too pleased with me. I reckon I'm just about the last person she'd want to see right now.'

Alishia snorted. 'You underestimate Sarayah's obsession with you. Right now, she's disappointed because she thought she would get what she wanted from you last night. But that won't last – she'll soon be sniffing round you again. I've seen it all before. You'd better hope Allanae agrees to let you activate that machine; that's the only hope you have of distancing yourself from her now. Once she sets her sights on someone, they rarely get away without fulfilling her needs.'

'Thanks for that,' he grimaced, now dreading the thought of facing her again.


	13. Chapter 13

When they reached the others, everyone was already hard at work. Alishia steered him over to a sack of seeds and a pile of shovels. 'Here; you can either sow seeds or dig. I think the first might be slightly kinder on your back, although the sack is very heavy.'

Sheppard tried not to make his sigh too obvious as he watched the others to assess his choices. The other men planting seeds hefted the sacks onto their backs, which wasn't an option for him, but the diggers were constantly stooped, which looked like it might strain his damaged skin too much. He chose the sack, dragging it along with him as he made his way over to where McKay and Ford were already digging.

"You look like crap!" McKay squeaked, his jaw slack as he watched his wounded friend approaching.

"Thanks."

"No, seriously, they can't expect you to work in this condition."

"They can, and they do," Sheppard assured him.

"You, Sheppard, over here," he heard Sarayah shout behind him. "I don't want you scheming with those other off-worlders."

Clearly, she had no intention of giving him any breaks. With a weary shake of the head, he walked away, dragging the sack of seed along too.

"Here, you can work with Sarndon," she ordered, pointing toward the Genii who was already hard at work with his shovel. The man flicked his eyes up to meet Sheppard's, but looked away again just as quickly, not showing any reaction to seeing him. Sheppard didn't want any trouble, and sorely hoped Sarndon wouldn't start another fight. Though normally he would find the man's ignorance insulting, the fact he wouldn't even look at him was actually a promising sign. Ignorance he could cope with, another beating was beyond him right now.

Sarayah stood at his shoulder watching as he scattered the seeds into the furrows Sarndon was making, then kicking the soil over them and firming it down with his foot.

"Careful how you cast that seed around – be sure it's all covered well," she nagged. He knew she was just trying to annoy him, so he didn't bite. "Are you listening to me?' she asked, jabbing him in the back.

His knees buckled and he staggered, regaining his footing as he fought down the raging pain that contact unleashed. 'Yes, I'm listening," he hissed, holding himself rigid so he didn't aggravate the injuries any more.

'Get down and pick up those wasted seeds," she ordered.

He turned to look at her. Her eyes burned bright with cruelty as she stared him down, desperate to regain mental control of her errant prisoner. He realised what he'd done last night had shaken her. He'd fooled her into thinking he was compliant then knocked her senseless; she wasn't about to forgive him for that in a hurry. But he needed to get away from her and over to that dormant Ancient device. Doing as she told him was a sure-fire way of reducing the antagonism and her need to watch him so closely.

Without a word, he carefully got down on his knees and picked up the stray seeds, throwing them back into the sack.

"Oh, while you're down there, my shoes are dirty. Dust them off for me."

Several expletives ran through Sheppard's pain addled brain. He thought about refusal, but he needed to get her off his back – quite literally. Much as it bothered him to do it, he pulled the sleeve of his tunic over the heel of his hand and used it to buff away the dust on her well-worn shoes. They looked no better for the cleaning, but it wasn't about that. She'd meant to humiliate him, and she'd done an admirable job. As he looked up to see if she was satisfied, he noticed she was wearing his thigh holster and M9. His stomach knotted at the sight. This woman really knew how to push his buttons.

"Now, stay down there and get on with your planting," she growled, strolling away.

He watched her leave, the smirk she wore infuriating him to the point that he wanted to grab her by the throat and shake the life out of her. But he couldn't. He had to hold it together for the sakes of everyone on that planet – women and men alike.

"Is it true about the Wraith?"

The whispered question was barely audible above his own thoughts, and he almost missed it. When it registered, he looked up to find Sarndon looking down at him, eyes filled with fear.

'Is what true?' he asked cautiously.

'You think they'll return soon to kill us all.'

'Where'd you here that?'

'Your friend, the one who talks too much, told us earlier...before you woke.'

_Nice going, Rodney, _he thought. _Way to frighten the poor bastards. _'Unfortunately, yes, it's true.'

'You can save us, yes?'

Sheppard huffed out a laugh. 'I can barely stand, so I'd say that's looking unlikely."

"But if you get to the machine they fixed, you can do it, right? How long do we have?'

Sheppard gazed up at the man, feeling his terror. Despite the fact this brute was frightening in his own right, his dread of what he had seen the Wraith do had him scared. "Not long now."

'What can I do to help?'

Those words were like music to Sheppard's ears. He hadn't thought any of these men had it in them to stand against the women, and Sarndon had seemed the least likely to help considering their differences. It seemed the Wraith attack had struck the fear of God into them all, and they were ready to take action.

'I need a distraction. I have to get away from here and over to the machine to get it up and running, but Sarayah's watching me like a hawk. Think you can do something to get her attention away from me?'

Sarndon frowned as he thought, then turned and walked away, digging little trenches as he went. Sheppard watched his back, wondering if he'd just imagined all that. There was no sign that Sarndon was working toward helping him at all, but then he noticed something. The Genii was quickly working his way over to another worker. He saw Sarndon's lips move, the other man nodded and the deed was done. Soon, a chain reaction took place, the workers surreptitiously passing on Sarndon's message.

Sheppard continued to work, not sure what to expect. He kept one eye on Sarayah, who, of cause, kept both eyes fixed on him, and occasionally glanced at Sarndon, trying to figure out what the man had in mind. A moment later he found out.

'Give me more room. I can't work with you constantly knocking into me.'

One of the men was shouting at Talsan. The youngster looking startled, but was quick to defend himself.

'You bumped into me. You should keep to your own space.'

'Are you calling him a liar?' another piped up, walking toward them both.

'He is a liar,' Talsan protested, backing up a step as they both rounded on him.

'Settle down,' Alishia called over, starting out toward them.

But the men didn't settle. More of them joined in, and soon Muscles had to wade in to try to break things up. McKay and Ford hung back, looking restless. Sheppard peered over at them and was about to signal an instruction when he realised Sarayah was on her way over to him.

He stood just as she reached him and grabbed hold of his arm. 'You. With me,' she grunted, dragging him away.

The two other guards who were working at the site had joined in the melee, a huge scrum in which arms and legs were flying. Fourteen determined men were more than a match for three guards.

'Sarayah, some help please,' he heard Alishia call to her superior.

Sarayah was clearly torn. She knew him too well. 'You move and I'll shoot you,' she warned, joining in the chaos to try to re-establish calm.

He didn't doubt she meant it in her current frame of mind, but he couldn't afford to worry about it. As soon as he was certain her attention was fully diverted, he signalled to Ford and McKay to get moving. They bolted across the field and into the wooded area before anyone even noticed they'd gone.

The pain in his back was excruciating, but the thought of getting that Ancient device up and running kept Sheppard going. He stumbled after stepping on a sharp fallen branch. Ford thankfully heard him hit the dirt and stopping to drag him upright again. 'You okay, Sir?'

'Just keep going!' Sheppard ordered, not even wanting to think about how bad he actually felt.

'How can you still be standing?' Rodney called to him, already read faced and panting from his exertions. 'Your back is in shreds.'

'Not helping, McKay! Shut up and keep moving!'

The pain was building to an unbearable level; he didn't need McKay reminding him of the state he was in when he was doing all he could to shut it out.

They ran on, Ford watching their six. Through the trees ahead, Sheppard could make out the fence surrounding the camp. 'How far to the machine?' he called to the others.

'It's about one click northeast of the camp,' Ford told him.

The electrical pulse of a Wraith stunner hit the trunk of a tree to Sheppard's left. He instinctively swerved away, straining his lacerated back, but forcing himself on. He ducked behind a tree, signalling for the others to take cover, too.

Peering out, he saw Sarayah running up fast. Alishia had been right; she really could move through this rough terrain.

'Come out, Sheppard. You can't hide forever. Show yourself now and I promise to be more lenient,' she called, slowing as she realised she could no longer see them.

Breathing far harder than he knew he should have to, Sheppard was certain she'd find him by following his rasping breaths alone.

'Sir, you go. We'll hold her off,' Ford whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

'What?' Rodney gasped. 'What's this _we_?'

'C'mon, McKay,' Ford encouraged, pushing him out into the open.

Rodney stumbled out into the vague pathway that wound through the forest, holding his hands up where Sarayah could see them.

'Er...don't shoot,' he pleaded.

'I won't...if you tell me where your friend is,' Sarayah promised him.

'Well...that's the thing...you see...I'm not sure anymore. The other two run a lot faster than me and I sort of –'

'Shut up!'

Sheppard started to slip quietly away. His instincts told him he should help Rodney since the scientist was likely to talk himself into a whole heap of trouble, but there was more at stake than Rodney getting himself stunned.

McKay was building up a head of steam about Sarayah's lack of respect for him considering he was the smartest man in two galaxies, when Sheppard heard the stunner go off and silence him. He was at the edge of the tree line when Ford jumped in to distract her. From what he could hear, there was a real scrap going on back there, but he knew from experience that Sarayah was tough, and she was armed. He wasn't about to assume Ford would win.

Sheppard made a run for it past the camp, battling with the stitch now building in his side. He was fitter than this. He took 10 kilometre runs in his stride; he could do this even if he bled out every last drop of his blood in the effort.

And he continued to believe that until something took his legs out from beneath him and the floor rose up in a sudden rush.

The weight of his pursuer climbing up his back to pin him down was unbearable, and he screamed into the dirt as Sarayah pushed the stunner to his temple. 'Going somewhere, pretty one?'

'Get the hell off of me!' he cried, trying to twist to throw her off, but only making matters worse.

She sat up on him, scraping her fingers down the course material of his shirt. 'Hurts, does it?' she asked, plainly aware of how much it did.

Grinding out another groan, Sheppard couldn't struggle his way out from under her without her digging her talons into his bloody flesh. 'Why are you doing this?' he gasped. 'I have to get that machine working!'

'So you can leave and all the men go free? I don't think so,' she sneered, raking his back up some more.

He let out another scream, one she dragged out slowly as she gouged at his skin. 'Th...this is much...b...bigger than you an...and me. Don't y...you see that?' he spat through his gritted teeth. 'Why are you m...making this so personal?'

'I didn't make this personal, _you_ did,' she said, standing up now and kicking him over onto his back. 'You made it personal when you decided to trick your way into my hut and use your wiles to escape.'

Sheppard pushed up on his elbows, conscious of the pressure of the ground on his bloody back, and the grains of dirt working through his roughly woven shirt.

'You were the one who drugged me. All I did was turn your deception against you.'

Without missing a beat, she snatched his M9 from the thigh holster she was wearing and shoved it up under his chin. 'I believe I told you that if you moved, I would shoot you. Do you think it's wise to argue with me?'

Sheppard held very still, though his arms trembled from supporting his weight in that uncomfortable and strained position. Her eyes held amusement at his plight. The bitch was actually enjoying this. Unlike her contemporaries, who treated their work as a job to be done as efficiently and emotionless as possible, Sarayah actually took pleasure in hurting and frightening the men. But he seriously doubted she would do what she was threatening. She'd developed an unhealthy obsession with him over the past few days; she did want him dead any more than she wanted him to go free.

'Go ahead and shoot,' he heard himself say, before he'd made the conscious decision to challenge her. Oh, well. He'd find out if he was right, soon enough.

Her face instantly dropped and she pulled back, standing over him. He'd called her bluff.

Angry about falling into his trap, she clubbed him with the butt of his gun. 'Well, I didn't say _where_ I would shoot you,' she spat, as he tried to make sense of his spinning surroundings, vaguely aware she was levelling her weapon.

The hammer of the gun fell. He heard the noise somewhere in amongst the ringing in his head and his leg jerked as if she'd kicked him again. As she back off and stood watching him, he came to the realisation she'd done more than that. A patch of red soaked through his trouser leg on his left thigh small at first, but as the fabric became more saturated it quickly spread.

'Now let's see you try to run, Sheppard,' she challenged, her mouth twisting into a triumphant smirk.

The moment of shocked numbness passed, and white-hot pain seared through his legs. He clutched it in reflex, feeling the blood ooze out through his fingers in warm, sticky trails. 'I can't believe you did that! You're insane! '

'Sadly for you, that might well be true. Now...time for your punishment.'

'What? This isn't enough?'

Sarayah grabbed his hair and hauled him along behind her before he could even attempt to get to his feet. As his back ploughed through the gritty dirt, he felt the skin tearing and scraping. He couldn't figure out what hurt the most – the whip marks, the bullet in the leg, or the hair she was trying to wrench out at the roots.

She reached the gates of the encampment and pounded on them, waiting for someone to open up. One of the guards who had remained at the camp came running at the unexpected arrival.

Sarayah pushed straight in and past her, still dragging Sheppard along with her.

'Where are you taking him, Sarayah? What are you doing?' he heard the other guard shout from behind them.

'Stay out of my way. I am going to teach this wretch a lesson he'll never forget.'


	14. Chapter 14

Although Sheppard knew he wasn't the heaviest man around, the fact Sarayah could bodily launch him up the steps of her hut still took him by surprise. He hit the floor face first, desperate not to roll and inflict yet more pain on his shredded back. His brain took a moment longer than his body to make the trip, the pain dulling his thinking; he had to snap out of it if he was going to defend himself.

Sarayah kicked him in the ribs as he tried to get up, knocking him flat. With the wind yet again knocked out of him, he lay still and listened, hearing her pouring out a drink. It seemed an odd time to stop for refreshments. Then a horrible thought struck him. She'd tried to sneak the draught into his drink yesterday – perhaps she wasn't going to be so subtle this time. He had to get out of there.

As he started to crawl for the door, he felt her grab his hair and the back of his trousers and throw him onto her bed, quickly sliding the wooden rail in place that locked her door before jumping on him to pin him face down on the mattress. She sat on the back of his thighs, increasing the burning sensation in his damaged leg. He thought he could actually feel the bullet digging further into his muscle along with the warmth of his blood soaking through the sheets beneath him.

'What the hell are you doing?' he demanded.

'Teaching you some respect,' she reiterated, tying his hands behind his back, just as he had done to her in the early hours.

He tried to pull free before she could secure him, but several well-placed punches into the worst lacerated areas of his flesh soon put a halt to that. She bound him tight, leaving his hands numb, then forced him over onto his back, drawing a scream out through his gritted teeth. 'Oh, not so tough now, eh, Sheppard?' she asked, pushing down on him to increase the pressure on his wounds.

He refused to let that sound out again.

She slid off him and caught hold of his ankles, about to bind them, too. Sheppard began to thrash and kick with his uninjured leg, hitting her in the stomach and knocking her back against the wall. She came right back at him, catching hold of his left leg and digging her thumb into his bullet wound. He bucked against the pain.

'Hold still or I'll do that again.'

He felt sick now; sick through blood loss, pain, and the thought of the revenge she planned to take. While he recovered from the pain in his leg, she managed to loop a rope around his ankles and pull it tight as he squirmed to try and loosen them. It was no good; she'd clearly done this before.

Someone thumping on the door disturbed them. 'Sarayah. Are you all right?' He didn't recognise the voice, but he figured it was the girl who had opened the gate.

'I'm fine, go away!' she barked.

Closing the shutters, she hid the scene before anyone could look inside. Through the haze of agony, and the dizziness of bloodloss and exhaustion, Sheppard watched her as she approached him, climbing onto the bed and sitting on him as she reached for the cup on her nightstand. With his hands restrained behind his back, he had no way of pushing the drink away, and he could smell the draught as soon as she brought it near him. He couldn't drink it; he was already helpless enough. What she would do to him if she got him drugged didn't bare thinking about.

She climbed on the bed, straddling him to pin him in place. 'Since you're so determined to get away from me, I'd better have my fun while I can.'

As she put the cup to his lips he pressed them shut, feeling the liquid down the sides of his face, determined not a drop of that drink would pass them. Unfortunately, he hadn't reckoned on how experienced Sarayah was at getting people to do as she wished, and how little conscience she felt about it.

She grabbed his thigh, forcing her thumb into the bullet wound again. He tried to hold it in, but eventually cried out, and in that moment, she filled his mouth with the draught, clamping his jaw shut and covering his mouth and nose so he couldn't draw breath. Sheppard wriggled and squirmed beneath her, trying to buck her off him despite the fact he could feel the skin of his back pulling apart as he did it. But nothing he did made a difference; he was weak, she was strong, and she had no intention of setting him loose. Eventually, he swallowed, getting instant relief as she allowed the air back into his lungs. But that relief was only temporary. As he gasped in a breath she filled his mouth again, repeating the process several times until the cup was empty.

By that time, the effects were already setting in. His head felt as if it was swelling and shrinking in quick succession, everything around him swimming in and out of focus. The pain seemed somehow distant now, as if he was remembering it rather than experiencing it first-hand.

He vaguely felt her catch hold of his face and saw her lips moving as she spoke to him, saying something about if whipping wasn't torture enough, perhaps this would make him think twice about rebelling, but the words were muffled and their impact cushioned. He thought he heard thudding, perhaps against the door, but he couldn't be sure. He stopped fighting, losing himself in the enveloping comfort of the draught, submitting to the oblivion it offered and whatever sordid acts the twisted bitch sitting on his stomach had in mind...

oooOOOooo

The familiar thrum of an ancient device was the first thing Sheppard became aware of as his consciousness returned. He had an instinctive connection to such things, and the buzz in the back of his mind was a welcome feeling that he'd missed over the past several days. Was he in Atlantis?

Voices surrounded him – voices he knew, but just for a moment couldn't quite place.

'I still say we shouldn't have moved him until he was more coherent,' a voice with a soothing Scottish lilt insisted. 'He couldn't even tell us if we were hurting him.'

'Well, if you weren't so useless at effectively employing your natural ATA gene, we wouldn't have had to move him,' a sharper voice intoned. 'Aren't you embarrassed that, even while stoned, Sheppard could order this thing to fire up when you couldn't? Of course, you only have to mention big guns to him and he goes all glassy-eyed anyway.'

As his eyes cracked open just a little, Sheppard saw the kind face of Carson leaning over him. 'Take it easy, son. You've had quite a day!'

'Tell me about it,' he mumbled, noticing how slurred his voice sounded. Then, he remembered something – lying on that stinking bed trying to wrestle Sarayah off him. He swallowed down a lump of anxiety, focusing on his surroundings. He was in the open in a clearing surrounded by a rocky ridge, and he was lying on the ground beside a machine that was obviously of Ancient design. It hummed happily, awaiting the need for it to function; Sheppard could actually feel its sense of contentment. 'It's working.'

'Yes it is, thanks to you...and you, Rodney.'

_Elizabeth. _Sheppard could barely contain his relief as his eyes fell on her, but contain it he did. 'Oh, you're back, then?' he quipped, flinching at the pain in his back as he lifted his head to look at her.

'I told you we would be,' she reminded him with a smirk. 'Looks like we came just in time, too.'

Sheppard pushed himself up, Carson helping him while at the same time preventing him from doing any more than that. 'Now, now. Let's not try to run before you can walk, eh laddie?'

'Or in your case, stand before you can sit," Rodney chirped, smiling inanely at his own joke.

Sheppard threw him a shrivelling look. He hated being incapacitated, and Rodney knew that. It was just like him to rub it in.

He took in all the faces around him – Ford, Carson, Elizabeth, Teyla and Rodney all standing with Allanae – and realised his ordeal was at last over. If Allanae knew what they'd done, she would have to let the men go free. Their rules said as much, and they were sticklers for the rules.

'So this machine will protect us from the Wraith ship you say is heading our way?' Allanae clarified, her expression still not breaking into anything but stony.

'Yes,' Elizabeth nodded. 'We picked it up on our long range scanners shortly before we set off from our base. They could be here any time.'

'Lies,' Sheppard heard Sarayah's voice growl from behind him.

He hadn't realised she was there, and the sound of her remonstration sent a shudder through him. An image flashed through his head, an image of her sitting on him, pulling at the rope belt of his trousers. He didn't even turn around to face her, afraid of what else he might remember if he looked her in the face.

'Actually, no, it isn't,' Rodney insisted, checking his watch. 'By my estimation, that ship will be entering orbit at any time and this device...'

The machine suddenly powered up, the humming building into a cacophony that hurt their ears, as they were forced to shield themselves against the noise. Then, a beam of intense light shot out of it, rising up further than they could see with the naked eye. It was followed shortly afterward by a tumultuous explosion that reverberated through the air for an age, finally echoing away to nothing as a fireball expanded in Medulsa's cobalt sky.

'...will blow it up,' Rodney finished, with an air of smugness that usually riled Sheppard, but today was a joy to behold.

The major began to struggle to his feet as the others continued to gaze up at the sky. Ford and Carson helped him up, and loaned him their support.

'So, that would be one ex Wraith hive ship,' Rodney explained to Allanae and the other women gathered there. 'Now they know you have this defence, they won't trouble you again...at least not for a while. And if they do...boom!'

The women all exchanged dubious glances, clearly knowing what this meant to their society.

Sarayah forced her way to the front of the group where Allanae watched the sky in open-mouthed awe. 'Allanae...this does not have to change things...we could silence these strangers, tell the men and others not here to witness this that we have no idea what happened, or that it was a natural phenomenon, and life can go back to normal.'

Teyla and Ford both raised their weapons at the mention of silencing them, but it seemed they had no need to worry. Allanae shook her head. 'It's over, Sarayah. Accept it. The rules of our society were put in place many centuries ago for good reason, and although you clearly have no compunction about doing whatever it takes to satisfy yourself, the rest of us will not go breaking them now just because it would be easier for us. To do so would taint the memory of our ancestors who put these safeguards in place for us. The machine will protect us; there is no need for this segregation to continue.'

'But this change can never work...'

'We will make it work,' Allanae said firmly, 'just as we made our old society work.'

Sarayah turned, seeking out Sheppard before rushing toward him. He saw her face clearly for the first time since waking, and she appeared to be sporting a still developing black eye. Had he done that to her?

'This is your fault,' she screeched, clawing at his shirt. Teyla was quick to throw herself between them, landing a sharp jab on the woman to cool her ardour when she tried to reach him again. Teyla, unlike the men, felt no qualms about striking Sarayah to keep her at bay.

'The major is free now,' she reminded the woman. 'You cannot treat him this way any longer.'

'That's what has her so scared,' Sheppard drawled, his voice still not quite its normal speed yet. 'Think of all those men just waiting to get revenge on you...all the prisoners...all the sick you neglected...'

Enraged by his taunt, Sarayah leapt forward again, but found herself on the receiving end of another of Teyla's "too quick to see it coming" punches.

'That will not happen, Sarayah. I will not allow it,' Allanae assured her. 'Although I am certain it is no more than you deserve.'

'What do you mean by that?' she demanded, lifting her chin proudly as she glared at the elder.

The look Allanae gave her was answer enough for all of them, but she went further with her explanation. 'Your cruelty is well reported, Sarayah, and I have turned a blind eye until now. But this time...this time your obsession with this prisoner has put us all in danger just so you could keep him within your grasp. Can you not see how twisted that is?'

Sheppard cast a glance Alishia's way, realising now that she'd been keeping tabs on Sarayah on Allanae's behalf. He addressed the elder, something that would no longer cost him five lashes. 'You're assuming she's capable of rational thought,' he sneered, enjoying her public dressing-down. 'That's a big assumption.'

'You didn't find me so repulsive when you where whoring yourself in my quarters last night as a means to gain your escape,' Sarayah spat back at him.

His jaw dropped, his eyes immediately darting to Rodney's and catching his accusatory stare. 'I...I wasn't whoring. I didn't do...anything!' he insisted.

'No. You just lay back an enjoyed the service,' she sneered, the glint in her eye telling him she was deliberately playing on his embarrassment. Crazy she might be, but he realised she was pretty observant. She's already worked out he was the kind of guy who valued his honour more than having a reputation for conquests.

His face flushing with colour, he tried to defend himself. 'Nothing happened. I stopped you before it could!'

'So you tell your friends now,' she smirked, enjoying his discomfort.

'Why can't you just let it go!' he hissed, Ford holding on tightly to him as he felt the urge to hit her himself. 'You've lost your hold over the men of your village, and you've lost me. Get over it!'

'Not until I teach you –'

'Enough, Sarayah,' Allanae ordered. 'Whatever you and this human did or did not get up to in your quarters is irrelevant. You have deceived this community for the last time. Nothing you say will be trusted again, not while I still live. You have much work to do to regain the trust of all of us.'

Sheppard could see McKay mentally comparing him to Captain Kirk all over again. He threw him a frosty glare he hoped would convince the scientist to keep his mouth shut until they were at least on their way back to Atlantis.

'Now, you will excuse us. We have a society to restructure, and I'm not sure quite how our people will accept the news. Go back to the encampment and open the gates, Alishia. Those men are free to roam as they choose now.'

'You cannot be serious, Allanae. You cannot just set them free,' Sarayah gasped. 'Imagine the chaos.'

'It was the promise they were given, one they fought to have fulfilled today.'

Elizabeth stepped in at this point. 'Actually, Sarayah may have a point. If your men have been institutionalised all their lives, handing them their freedom in this way could do more harm than good. Why don't you let us help? I have people who can talk them through this –'

Allanae held up a hand to silence Elizabeth, leaving Weir gaping back at her in surprise. 'Thank you, but I think you and your people have done enough already.'

'But, what about your sick the major mentioned. I can help them,' Carson offered, adopting his best puppy dog eyes.

'There's not many of them left; she saw to that,' Sheppard told him, flashing an angry look Sarayah's way. 'But this isn't just a sickness; the virus repels the Wraith. I watched one try to feed on someone with the sickness, but he couldn't.'

Carson looked fit to explode. 'Seriously? This could be a massive breakthrough in biological defences against the Wraith. If I can synthesise it in a safe way –'

Again, Allanae stopped him. 'We will deal with our own sick, just as we always have.'

Carson's jaw dropped. 'But...but this is huge. At least let me take some blood samples.'

Allanae stood firm in her refusal. 'We have enough to deal with. I do not want our people frightened by off-worlders with their strange ways.'

'Well, surely you have no objection to me staying behind to study this device I got up and running for you?' Rodney whined, looking utterly dejected.

'In time, perhaps. But now, we have a lot of work to do, and we need time and space to do it.'

'Our society will collapse. You know what men are capable of,' Sarayah screeched, grasping the front of Allanae's dress.

Alishia prised her off the elder and held her back. 'Show some respect, Sarayah, or I will knock some into you.'

For once, Sarayah backed down. It seemed she knew Alishia was more than a match for her.

The Atlantis team all looked at one another, faces showing the realisation of how much they had let slip through their fingers on this seemingly ineffectual planet. Nothing any of them said would make a difference. These women had made up their minds and nothing would sway them. All they could do was hope that in time they would finally trust them enough to let them back in. If nothing else, they might be able to study the ancient protection device.

'Look, at least grant me one wee request,' Carson pleaded. 'Let us come back later today with medicine for you. Without examining your people, I don't know exactly what to offer, but a broad spectrum antibiotic might help some of you to fight this sickness off.'

Allanae sighed, but then nodded. 'Very well,' she agreed, as doing so were a tremendous chore.

Carson gave her a beaming smile. 'Thank you, Madam. I'll send a couple of my nursing staff along to show you how to administer it. That way, your people won't have to be so scared'

'That will be acceptable...as long as it is done before sunset. Tomorrow is going to be a very different day for the people of Medulsa, and I think it would be best of we were alone to find our own way through this. We will escort you to your craft.'

Sheppard looked at Ford, who flicked his eyebrows in an "I guess we better move" kind of way. Though the jumper wasn't far away, parked beside the one Rodney had landed a day ago, and Carson insisted Sheppard stop being a "bloody martyr" and get back on the stretcher they'd carried him to the device on while he was unconscious.

He agreed, and was soon being conveyed to the jumper. At least there was some hope for Balfor now. He would make sure Carson instructed one of his nurses to find him and dose him with the medicine themselves. Though he felt heavy-hearted that he wouldn't know his fate, he wasn't sorry to be leaving the strange society, and in particular the completely insane Sarayah, far behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

'I can't believe you made out with that woman...even if it was part of your escape plan. That is so...so...'

Though he'd known McKay was unlikely to let that go without comment, Sheppard had hoped he might get back to Atlantis and out of his bloodstained slave clothes before he started on him. They'd just made it back to the jumper and he was trying to get comfortable on one the bench seats in the rear compartment, lying on his right side to keep the pressure off his back and injured leg as Stackhouse readied the craft for take-off.

'...so not what happened. I did not make out with her, Rodney!' he protested for the third time since the flight had started. 'Like I said, I didn't do anything.'

'So what...you just lay there and let her have her way with you?'

'Yes, Rodney. That's exactly what I did.'

'You are such a Kirk!'

Sheppard rolled his eyes, losing his temper now. 'That was sarcasm, Rodney. Nothing happened. I smashed her over the head with a pitcher.'

'So, she didn't do anything?'

Sensing he wasn't going to drop the subject until he threw him a bone, Sheppard gave him a few minor details. 'Well, she tried kissing me a few times, stuff like that.'

'That doesn't sound so bad.'

Sheppard just glared at him, no answer necessary.

'Well, at least Sarayah was good looking. Ford and I got jumped by Bigfoot's less hairy sister!'

Ford snorted out a laugh, clearly far less traumatised by the experience than the scientist was. Not for the first time, Sheppard wondered if Rodney might actually still be a virgin...

'So what else did she do...you know...this time?'

Sheppard huffed and rolled his eyes in Rodney's direction. 'McKay! I am not giving you a blow by blow account of what she did just to satisfy your seedy little voyeuristic tendencies!'

'There was blowing?'

'GO!'

'What? No, seriously, what is it with you and alien women? They can't keep their hands off you!'

'GO!'

'Why so tetchy all of a sudden? At least it was better than the whipping!'

'He said go,' Ford warned.

Carson chose this as his opportunity to interrupt. 'All right, lads. Let's not squabble. Could you give me some room so I can examine my patient, Rodney?'

McKay shuffled away, muttering something about never getting assaulted by sexy aliens.

'How're you feeling, son?' Carson asked, checking the dressing on Sheppard's leg. 'And don't say your fine because I'll know your lying.'

'Sore,' he admitted, hoping that would placate the medic.

'Aye, I'll bet. And how's the back?'

'Sore,' he repeated, wondering how long a single word could pass as a satisfactory answer.

'How about the memory? Can you remember anything about the last few hours before you woke yet?'

A few flashes of frantic struggling, pain, and unwanted fumblings troubled him, but he forced them down, not sure he wanted to remember them. 'No...things are still pretty hazy.'

'Well, I'm not surprised. From what the women told me, the drug Sarayah administered has a lot in common with Rohypnol. You might never remember everything.'

Right at that moment, with Sarayah's ragged breaths and screamed threats still echoing in his head, Sheppard didn't think that was such a bad thing.

'Anyway, we'll be able to sort you out properly once we get you back to Atlantis. You let me know if you need more pain management.'

'Will do, Doc.'

As Carson moved away, Sheppard rounded on Ford. 'Lieutenant, what exactly _was _happening when you people found me?'

Ford shrugged. 'Not sure, Sir. I was recovering from the stunner when the others turned up. I think it was Dr Weir who got to you first. I guess she's the one to ask.'

Cringing, Sheppard closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the seat. 'Well, that's just great,' he sighed.

'Perhaps you should just get some sleep, Sir,' Ford suggested. 'Worry about that stuff later.'

'Yeah, maybe.'

Closing his eyes, he tried to enjoy the relative comfort of that jumper seat compared to the floor of the dormitory hut and his rancid blanket bed. He lay there, pain nagging all over his body, forcing back what few flashes of memory he had, until a voice broke his concentration.

'So, how are you doing, John?'

It was Elizabeth.

Sheppard cracked open one eye to peer at her. 'Tired,' he grunted, hoping she would take the hint.

'I'm not surprised. You've had a difficult few days.'

Realising she wasn't going anywhere, he opened the other eye. 'That's one way of putting it.'

'I don't think the ladies of Medulsa will be forgetting _you _in a hurry.'

'Well, I wish I could say the same...but what with the amnesia...'

'Yes, that must be very disconcerting.' She stared at him, a smirk of amusement twisting at her mouth as she battled to keep it at bay.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him. 'Lieutenant, could you give us some space?'

Ford looked at him as if to ask how he was supposed to do that since there were seven of them crammed into a puddle jumper, then silently made his way up to the forward section.

Elizabeth took up his vacant seat opposite where Sheppard was lying. 'Something you want to discuss?' she asked, the glint in her eye telling him she knew exactly what was on his mind...or wasn't to be more precise.

'I understand you were the one who...you know.'

'Found you?'

He nodded, chewing his bottom lip.

'That's right. That muscular woman, Alishia was it? She broke in through the door of Sarayah's hut just as we arrived in the jumper. I could tell there was trouble, so I figured you'd be involved somehow.'

'How did you know where to find me?'

'Luck, mostly. We arrived in the village as one of the guards from your camp brought Allanae the message about the impending Wraith attack. We offered to fly her to the camp to speak to you in person about the threat and the Ancient device, and when we arrived Sarayah was...disciplining you.'

'I don't really remember much after that _woman_ gave me the laced drink...' he admitted, holding back the expletive he'd been about to use to describe her.

'So I understand.'

It became blatantly clear that Elizabeth had no intention of making this easy for him. He shifted, propping himself up a little more to feel less...vulnerable. 'She was pretty mad with me.'

'Yes...I got that,' Elizabeth nodded, tilting her head and waiting for him to say something else.

This was agony. Sheppard knew she was aware of the issue he was skirting around, but she seemed determined to make him squirm. He supposed she was probably pretty mad at him, too, and this was her revenge. A rush of colour rushed to his face left him feeling uncomfortably hot. The jumper suddenly seemed too tightly packed, something he'd never experienced before. 'When you got there, was she...I mean...was I...'

She feigned puzzlement. 'Were you...?'

'Oh c'mon, Elizabeth. Gimme a break!' he finally blurted out.

She broke out in a broad smile. 'Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what I saw, Major.'

Sheppard pressed his lips together and counted to ten. 'Actually, I was rather hoping you'd at least tell me.'

'Are you sure you want to know?' she teased.

'Elizabeth!'

She laughed now, unable to contain it any longer. 'It's all right, John. Your honour is still in tact...at least as in tact as it was when you arrived there.'

He chose to ignore that jibe. 'So, she didn't...do anything?'

'Not much...crazy as she undoubtedly was, unless she holds the galaxy record for speed dressing drugged men, I'm pretty sure she didn't get far beyond drugging you.'

Sheppard sighed with relief and laid back. 'Well, that's good to hear.'

'I just had to straighten you out a little,' she elaborated.

'And that's not so good,' he winced, unable to remember that. The constant smirk she wore made him think she was just pulling his leg, but he wasn't sure.

'Well, here's something else that's not so good to hear. Thanks to you, we'll all be in isolation for the next few days when we get back, at least until we can be sure none of us is incubating that sickness from the camp.'

'Yeah, sorry about that,' he said, feeling guilty that he'd dragged them all into the camp. 'Although, if one of us has it, we might be able to use it.'

'If we don't die of it first,' Elizabeth pointed out. 'Although Carson assures me there's a good chance we'll be unaffected. The fact it was only infecting the men and not the women of Medulsa suggests it affects people with a compromised immune system, probably due to their poor diet and exhaustion.'

'Make sure you tell McKay that. He'll have developed every imaginable symptom before we make it back if you don't.'

'It's only a two minute flight,' she smiled.

'I know.'

'Well, on the upside, we have a lot to discuss about what happened down there, so this will give us plenty of time.'

Sheppard grimaced. In his heart, he'd known he wouldn't get away with the havoc he'd caused without some kind of reprimand, but he'd been hoping for some time to recover before having to face the music. It didn't seem Elizabeth planned it to go that way. He ran a hand back through his hair, catching the bump on his temple left by one of the many pistol whippings he'd endured. 'I screwed everything up, didn't I?'

'Oh, that's one way of putting it.'

'I can't believe we were so close to getting our hands on both the Ancient tech and a possible natural defence and I blew it.'

'Well, if it's any consolation, if you hadn't insisted on staying there, it's doubtful you would have found out about either of those things. So, if I look at this pragmatically, I can see we haven't lost anything – we just haven't gained anything, either.'

He sighed again. 'I guess. But perhaps if I hadn't pushed them so hard to change their society, they would've eventually let us in and we'd have found that stuff out anyway.'

She arched an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by his self-deprecation. 'I doubt that would have ever happened, so don't beat yourself up about it – especially since it looks like they did more than enough of that to last you a lifetime.'

'Tell me about it.'

'Actually, it may not have been a complete failure,' Rodney interjected. Though Sheppard was pissed that he'd obviously been listening in to their conversation, he was happy to hear anything that might make him feel better right now. 'Like I told you, I had to run some diagnostics on the machine while we were checking what was wrong, and I did some more just before you switched it on. So, I should have collected enough data to extract something useful.'

He opened up the laptop he'd been clutching all the way back to the jumper and fired it up. His excited smile soon slipped. 'Oh nonononono, this can't be right!'

_That figures, _Sheppard thought, waiting to hear just was the problem was this time.

'What's wrong, Rodney,' Elizabeth asked, rolling her eyes at his melodramatic outburst.

'It's all gone!' he gasped, jabbing in instructions to try and recall the data, his expression growing progressively more desperate. 'That device must have sent out a massive EM pulse when it fired. The memory's been wiped.' He sat back and sighed. 'I went through all that for nothing!'

Sheppard raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment, turning back to Elizabeth to see his incredulity reflected on her face.

Ignoring Rodney as he ranted on, she continued their conversation. 'You know, much as I was annoyed with you for refusing to come back to Atlantis, you made me look at my attitude toward the plight of those men, and I didn't like what I saw.'

Her confession surprised him. 'Really?'

'Really,' she nodded. 'I would have torn strips off anyone who called me sexist before all this, but when I got back to Atlantis after seeing you that first time, I realised you had a point. At some subconscious level, I was less worried about the oppression they faced because they were men, and that was wrong.'

'Well, I'm glad you see it that way...' He felt like pointing out the fact everyone was making a joke of what Sarayah had or hadn't done was pretty sexist, too. He doubted they'd be teasing Teyla if she'd been the one treated that way.

'I'm not finished,' Elizabeth said, her manner now more serious.

_Here it comes, _Sheppard thought, preparing himself for the inevitable lecture.

'That said, I don't expect to be blackmailed into changing my views ever again, John. This is the second time in only a few weeks that we've had this conversation. I am the leader of the Atlantis expedition, and I've already promised to defer to you on all things military, but this was not a military issue, no matter how you looked at it.'

'I know, and I'm sorry...I got carried away –'

'I understand that, John. But I can't afford you to keep doing that. I know I'm sometimes guilty of thinking too much, but you're guilty of the opposite, and not thinking things through. Perhaps we should agree to trust each other before you go rushing off on any other moral crusades.'

'I was worried that if we got back to Atlantis, things wouldn't seem so bad –'

'Believe it or not, I'm an intelligent woman, and if you'd just come back to Atlantis and discussed your concerns with me, I would have listened.'

'Listened, yes – but would you have done anything?'

'I would have tried to talk to them about the issue. Whether it would have been as successful as your approach I suppose is very doubtful.'

'So what you're saying is that even though I went about it all the wrong way, I secured the best possible result?' he asked, giving her a lopsided smile.

She smirked. 'I suppose that's true, but don't let it go to your head.'

'I'll try not to.'

'Unlike that drug they gave you.'

His smile dropped instantly. Elizabeth's eyes twinkled with delight at his discomfort. 'You haven't told me everything, have you?' he asked cautiously.

She dropped her gaze to her feet, still smiling. 'You know everything you need to know,' she grinned.

'Don't do this!' he pleaded. 'I've been tortured enough already. What's the big joke?'

She forced the smile from her face and fixed him with her green gaze. 'Let's just say you were rather...chatty when I found you.'

'Yeeaaah...and?' he pressed.

'The drug helps you to forget your inhibitions, right?'

'Oh God!' he groaned. 'What did I do?'

'It wasn't so much what you did...as what you said,' she said, prolonging his agony.

He covered his eyes. 'This is going to be bad, isn't it?'

'No...actually it was quite flattering. You told me I had very pretty eyes.'

He parted his fingers and peered out at her. 'That's it? That's not so bad.'

'No...not bad at all. And if Simon and I ever break up, I might consider the offer you made, too,' she smiled. 'Now, you get some rest. You're safe now.' She stood up and patted him gently on the shoulder, then made her way back to the forward section.

Sheppard watched her go, embarrassment burning even hotter now. Her words had jarred loose another moment of memory. Had he really said_ that_ to her? He knew this teasing was her way of gently punishing him for oing against her authority, but it was leaving him with a deeply uneasy feeling he just couldn't put into words. He was military...he was supposed to suck it up, so that was what he'd do.

She sat down next to Teyla, the two of them giggling as they glanced over at him and the jumper finally began its journey to the gate. He groaned, closing his eyes to shut it all out for a while longer. Something told him the next few days in isolation were going to be the longest of his life.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading to the end of the story. If you've enjoyed it please let me know. It's good to feed the muse! :D**


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